Page 13 of Coral Memories

Curious, she followed the path that connected the structures and opened the rear door to her grandmother’s cottage. A deep conversation floated to her ears, and she made her way toward it.

“So you were disappointed that your father wouldn’t let you continue your studies,” Jack said.

“The Great Depression and the war took its toll on my family,” Ginger replied, sounding practical. “Pa insisted my older brothers prepare for professions. There were no funds for my education.”

Listening intently, Marina cut through the kitchen, past the red vintage O’Keefe & Merritt stove, and into the dining room. She recalled hearing Ginger tell that story with more emotion.

“Did you feel slighted?” Jack asked. “I know I would have.”

Marina paused in the doorway to the study.

Catching a glimpse of Marina, Ginger nodded after a long moment. “At the time, I felt caged, furious, disappointed, and hurt. You see, I yearned for an education, not only for myself, but for what my younger brother Jesse would have had if he’d lived. He had a keen mind like mine.”

Marina watched while Jack made notes. While still holding her posture erect, her grandmother seemed weary, as if she’d been speaking all day. Marina frowned with concern.

“Young women were presumed to marry instead, which I did. Father was hopelessly old-fashioned, even for that time.” Ginger tapped her manicured nails on the table. “So, I simply got on with living.”

Marina caught Ginger’s eye and cleared her throat. “I remember how you read your brothers’ books and skipped ahead in school.”

“I’m delighted you were listening, Marina.” A corner of her grandmother’s mouth curved as she turned to Jack again. “From an early age, I set out to surpass my brothers and prove my intelligence to my father.”

“That can be a strong motivation,” Jack said, nodding.

“I’m sure I frightened him instead.” A smile flitted across Ginger’s face. “I devoured my brothers’ academic books, determined to score high on challenge exams my teachers agreed to administer to me.”

“What else drove you?” Jack asked. “Surely it was more than your father’s approval.”

Ginger appeared to reflect on that question for a moment. “I told myself I owed it to Jesse,” she said slowly. “But I also had a pure thirst for knowledge.”

Marina peered at the open photo album between them. She gestured beside a photo of two figures hunched over a gameboard. One of them was a very young Ginger. “What’s the story behind this photo?”

“That was the day I won my first chess game against my father. My mother wanted to commemorate the occasion.”

Marina smiled. “Your dad looks surprised and humbled.”

“He certainly was.” Ginger chuckled.

“You enjoyed intellectual games,” Jack stated, leaning forward.

“More than that,” Ginger replied. “Chess, calculus, codes, and ciphers. As a child, I hungered for the rewards of mental challenges. In my mind, that kept Jesse alive. Perhaps it was my way of making amends.”

Knowing that was a tender subject, Marina touched her grandmother’s shoulder. “Jack, you should know that Ginger’s faculty with numbers spilled into other pursuits, too. She’s a true renaissance woman.”

Jack rolled his pen through his fingers. “In what ways—other than the obvious?”

“Take music, for example,” Ginger said. “To me, music is auditory mathematics; baking, a precise experiment in chemical reactions; and fashion, architecture for the body. To discerning eyes, a sleeve or a hemline a finger’s breadth too short or long will destroy the harmonious balance and line.” She smiled fondly at a memory. “My mother shared these interests, too. She was a seamstress, but today, she might have been a top fashion designer.”

Jack nodded and made another note. Glancing over his writings, he said, “You haven’t told me how Jesse died.”

“No, I haven’t,” Ginger replied, averting her gaze. “That is for another day.”

Ginger suddenly seemed to shrink into herself, which alarmed Marina. She put a hand over Jack’s notebook. “That’s enough. Let her rest before dinner.”

“Oh, sure,” he said, glancing at his watch. “The time slipped away from us.” Turning to Ginger, he asked, “Same time tomorrow?”

Her grandmother sighed, and Marina cut in, “You shouldn’t meet every day. Why work so hard?”

Jack agreed, and Ginger pressed her fingers against Marina’s arm in silent appreciation.

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