Living in a small, old-fashioned community when I was a divorced mom years ago was a challenge. I made the choice so my son and I could have a more peaceful life in a small village that seemed to have most of the amenities we required. The rural schools were less crowded, another plus.
During the week, I drove 30 minutes to my job. After work, I picked up my son from the after- school program, and we beelined home. I’d start dinner while my son worked on his homework. Not an exciting routine, but we commuted to scouts, karate, and other activities on weekends and some evenings.
When I brought my son to activities, I was the only single parent! I relied on other kids’ dads to stand in for me, when my son wanted to go camping with his scout troop.
On one particular freezing-cold camping trip, I was concerned about the extreme weather, but no one considered canceling. Rather than have my son labeled a wimp, I agreed to let him join the group for the one-night camp-out. However, I noticed that many of the boys had not brought warm sleeping bags. I made an extra trip and gathered up old blankets and returned to the campsite to augment the boys’ ability to stay warm. It was below zero!
After I returned to the campsite, several of the dads eyed me and suggested I might want to stay. They promised to keep me warm and offered to share their sleeping bags. Joking that I’d rather stay warm in my apartment, I politely declined. All the men were married. They seemed quite earnest about their suggestion that I should stay. I was the only woman there. I assessed the situation and, with my son imploring me to let him stay, I left him for the night, with promises to be back early the next morning. He had very warm clothes, and a highly rated sleeping bag.
When I arrived the next morning, my son told me how excited he was that his group boiled water in record time in one competition they’d held. I was glad he’d experienced a sense of success, but I was worried about his health and safety. In cold conditions, his mild cerebral palsy left him vulnerable to muscle spasms. I was relieved he was safe and had stayed warm enough.
For me, it was a challenge, because I wanted to tell off the dads. I kept my cool (pun intended) and hid my anger and frustration. They considered me someone who would bed down with them simply because I was a divorcee? They offended me. Could I have created a scandal just by showing up at the campsite? I certainly had no desire to create a scandalous situation, but I was not the one propositioning in front of the boys!
Now that I’m writing romance novels, I can see how scandals can start from almost no provocation. That incident is raw material for my writing. Real life incidents can be scandalous—and enrich our writing!
Note: I’m not naming names and I always fictionalize the characters I create.