Chapter 7 : A Ball was the Reason 1

The doorbell rang late in the morning. Ruby opened the door and saw a man clutching the hand of a plump little boy at the entrance. She studied the man, certain she had never seen him before.

“Who are you here to see?”

“Uh, I’m here to see Amber. I was hoping to ask if she could watch Flynn for a while.” The man glanced at the small child beside him.

“Look after…” Ruby eyed the chubby boy clutching a ball. Her brows furrowed.

Amber appeared just then and, seeing the father and son, invited them in. “You’re here already? Please, come in, Tucker, Flynn.”

“Yes, please look after him for the whole day, Amber. I have urgent business at the company.” The father appeared genuinely rushed.

“Of course, I’ll take good care of him. This is my daughter, Ruby. Ruby, this is Tucker, our neighbor. I’ll be looking after Flynn for him.”

“Oh, so we’re looking after a child too. Hello, Tucker.” Ruby nodded to her mother and raised her hand in polite greeting to Tucker.

“Alright, I’ll be going then.” Tucker, a thirty-six-year-old widower, raised his hand in return and hurried out of the house.

“Mom, what is this?” Ruby turned to her mother and the little boy, feeling troubled on their behalf.

“I already told you, I will take on any job. Tucker lives right next door.” Amber pointed to the house on the left.

“Wasn’t that house Grandma Tammy’s, Mom?”

“Grandma Tammy sold it years ago. Tucker bought it and lived there with his wife, but she was unlucky—she died three years ago. Now, he’s a popular widower around here.”

“He’s handsome, so I guess he really is popular, like you said, Mom. But aren’t you tired of taking care of a child like this? I used to look after Nico, and it gave me a headache every day, so naughty and stubborn.”

“That means you already have experience caring for a young child. Nico was about five or six years old, like Flynn. Perfect, you can help me look after him so I won’t get so tired.” Amber took Flynn’s hand and draped her arm over her daughter’s shoulder as they walked inside together.

“Alright, Flynn. This is Ruby. Have you said hello to Ruby yet?”

“Hello, sister.” The chubby little boy raised his hand to greet Ruby. He was adorable, especially with his uneven, short bangs across his forehead.

“Sister? Mom.”

“It’s fine. Or would you rather be called ‘aunt’ instead?”

“Call me sister, that’s fine,” she replied with a shy smile. She crouched and gently pinched Flynn’s cheek.

“Such chubby cheeks. Seems like your dad takes good care of you.”

“Yes, Dad orders chicken for me.” The talkative boy grinned so wide his cheeks nearly split, his round eyes fixed on Ruby.

“Order chicken?” There were probably only a few delivery places that did that. Ruby smiled and turned to look at her mother, silently asking.

“A widower doesn’t really have time to cook. By the way, has Flynn eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Mom, don’t tell me he’s going to eat here.”

“Tucker included payment for Flynn’s meals, too. Ruby, I thought since we know each other, we could help. Before, when I was alone, I felt pretty lonely.” At once, her daughter understood.

“Okay, Mom. Whatever you do, I’ll do too. Today I’ll help take care of Flynn myself. But first, shall we get something to eat, Flynn?”

“Sure, Ruby.”

After preparing food for Flynn, Ruby invited the little boy to play with his ball. As they played, Amber took the opportunity to go to the nearby market for dessert ingredients.

Before leaving, Amber told her daughter, “Flynn likes playing football, Ruby. Our front yard is big enough.” She explained, “When he was with me, we couldn’t play much. I’m getting old.” Wanting to go with her, Ruby protested, but Amber refused. She insisted that Flynn stay home to avoid the heat and took a taxi as usual.

“I’m leaving now.”

“Have a safe ride,” Ruby said as she walked her mother to the front of the house and then returned to Flynn.

“Are you good at playing football?” she asked teasingly. Flynn wiggled his stout little body before answering shyly.

“Yes, I am.”

Ruby started the game by gently kicking the ball to Flynn, who returned it with all the strength a child his age could muster. “Oh, not humble at all! Then why don’t you test your skills against me?” she teased.

They took turns passing the ball for nearly fifteen minutes. When Ruby grew bored, she kicked the ball high for Flynn to head. Using a bit too much force, she sent it over the fence into the house on the right.

“Oh no, Flynn.”

“The ball’s gone, Ruby,” Flynn said, blinking as he stared at the wall.

Ruby felt guilty as Flynn’s toy disappeared into thin air. What should she do? Unsure if anyone was home, she walked over to the house, only to find it eerily quiet, with no cars parked in the garage. She then led Flynn back to their own house.

“Here’s what we’ll do, Flynn. I’ll climb the wall and fetch the ball. You stay here and don’t move, okay?” she instructed, closing the door behind her.

“Okay.” Eager to continue playing, the boy obediently agreed.

Ruby dragged a chair to the wall and climbed up. From there, she spotted Flynn’s ball nearby—retrieving it didn’t look too hard. Since Chris’s wall was made of prefab blocks with a horizontal beam, not sharp rods like others, she climbed up, swung onto the beam, and gave Flynn a thumbs-up and a smile.

“Wait right here, Flynn. Be good,” she reminded the little boy again.

“Yes, Ruby.”

Thud!