“I’m…I don’t know what to say.” I slumped my shoulders in defeat. “He knows better.”
But did he really? All sympathy for my poor, innocent son evaporated. He’d freakin’ jumped off the shed—of his own free will! There was nothing I could do or say to defend his actions. I couldn’t even claim this to be out of his character, because it wasn’t. Not even close. The truth was, I’d been to the hospital before. Once when Noah dropped off a rope swing that wasn’t even over water. Another when he’d attempted to jump over my car with his trick bike. And yet another when he’d decided the neighbor’s guard dog needed to roam free, and he got bitten on the butt for his efforts. I wasn’t sure if Noah lacked sound decision-making skills, if he was Evel Knievel reincarnated, or if my relaxed mothering style allowed for such moments of recklessness from my son. I suspected it was a combo of all three.
“Miss Bello,” the director said, taking pity on me.
“Jess,” I corrected.
“Jess. Noah’s a good kid—a crack-up, actually. He loves attention like Putin loves poison. And he’s been thriving with the staff. This isn’t a reflection on him or you. Sometimes accidents just happen… on purpose.”
I tossed that astounding piece of wisdom around in my head before repeating it back for clarity.
“Accidents that happen on purpose?” I smiled. “How diplomatic of you.”
“That didn’t come out right, did it?”
“No,” I agreed.
“You know. I was once a lot like Noah.”
“Oh, really? You jumped off storage sheds too?”
“Well, no.” He grinned. “But I did once fall out a second-story window.”
“Oh, god. Please don’t tell my son that story.”
“We can keep it our little secret. Anyway, I grew up and went on to bigger and better things, and with the right guidance, so will Noah.”
There it was. The subtle dig—the universal belief that a child born to a high school senior and raised by a single mom could not possibly get all the guidance he needed from her—from me. I hadn’t put him at this sleepaway spring break camp for low-income kids because I thought he needed guidance. I’d enrolled him there because he’d received a scholarship to attend and I needed a break.
“Look, I know how hard it is to raise a son as a single mother without a man around. My mother did it on her own too, and look how I turned out.”
The director opened his arms to showcase his awesomeness.
Was he…? I glanced at the man who was staring back with a wide toothy grin. Nah. No way would he be hitting on me so soon after my son was accidentally injured on purpose under his watch, would he?
“Very impressive,” I smiled politely. “And thank you for making me feel better.”
He kept ahold of my eye, nodding more times than seemed necessary. Oh god. Please no.
I stood up, putting some distance between me and a guy who didn’t understand social cues. So much for being raised by a single mother.
“I’m going to go see Noah now, Mr.…?”
“Craig,” he said.
“Mr. Craig.”
“No—Mr. Connor.”
Wait, what? Was he Craig or Connor? I took my best guess. “Connor?”
“Yes.” He chuckled. “I mean, no.”
I blinked, unsure where to go from here. The dude couldn’t even get his name straight, and he’d been put in charge of my child?
“Connor’s my last name. Craig is my first. So it’s Craig Connor.”
Whoa, yeah. So, I didn’t trust anyone who actually had toexplaintheir name. I reached my hand out and shook his. “Thank you for getting my son to the hospital, Craig Connor. I’ll stay in touch with the camp and update you on his condition.”
