Page 10 of Coral Memories

“Well, I am very much a human,” Ginger said. “Must we establish that?”

Jack’s face colored. “What I meant was?—”

“I’m only teasing you, my dear,” Ginger said, opening the album she had shared with Marina. “Let’s begin with my family history. Early childhood shapes us, don’t you think? Then, as adults, we must decide to continue on our parents’ path or change our journey.”

Nodding, Jack made a note. “Can you be more specific?”

“Of course.”

Jack waited for her to elaborate, but her mind was racing ahead, connecting the dots, the cause and effect of myriad choices—some small, some momentous.

She tapped a photo, naming her family members. “My parents met in Oklahoma and moved west. This photo was taken just before my brother Calvin left for university. I was excited at the thought I would soon join him.”

“And did you?”

That question made her hesitate. A memory flooded her mind, and the years slipped away.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Surely you showed great promise in those subjects as a child.”

“True, but…”

Leaning forward, Jack pressed on, his voice soft with empathy. “You must have been disappointed. I’d sure like to hear that story.”

“Well, alright.” As she began telling her story, she felt like she was there again.

Seatedat a second-hand dining room table scarred from use, Ginger closed her schoolbooks. She’d finished early today.

In the adjoining living room of the small cottage, the rhythmic sound of sewing shears slicing through cotton fabric broke the silence. Her mother worked at a padded cutting table that folded out from the wall.

The aroma of tea filled the air. It was too warm outside for hot tea, so Mary Lou Sheraton often let it grow cold before drinking. Cut fabric panels stacked nearby would be dresses come morning.

Ginger often slept to the sound of her mother pumping the foot treadle of her sewing machine, its needle piercing the fabric.

She stuffed her homework into her book bag for school tomorrow. She had just enough time to swim before helping her mother prepare dinner. Her gingham dress was scratchy and damp with perspiration. She stood, ready to bolt. “May I go to the beach with my friends now? Their parents will watch us.”

Her mother shook her head. “Not today. Calvin and Buford need help with their homework.”

“They never help me.”

The scissors fell silent. “Grace Ellen, watch your mouth.”

Ginger tried to look remorseful, but she was tired of carrying the homework load for her brothers. “Mama, they must learn calculus and trigonometry for their exams.”

“That is precisely why they need your help now,” her mother replied patiently. “Calvin must pass if he is to graduate from high school. You have a natural aptitude for this material, so share your blessings with your brothers. To do otherwise would be selfish.”

“But I haven’t taken those classes yet.” She would have, except one teacher blocked her request and insisted home economics was a prudent alternative.

Her mother arched an eyebrow. “You’ve read those books cover to cover and earned credit for the classes, thanks to Miss Carter and the principal.” She put down her scissors and picked up her teacup. “When you’re older, you’ll be glad you helped your brothers.”

“Mama, I know what I want to do.” Ginger had been waiting for the right time to share her dream with her mother. If she couldn’t go to the beach, she’d make her pitch before her father came home.

Her mother would understand.

Ginger placed her bag near the door. “I just learned today that Scott is graduating early with a university scholarship. Mygrades are better than his. Except in home economics.” Ginger made a face.

“Nothing wrong with being a fine cook.” Her mother peered over the rim of her cup. “And your grades are the best in the school.” Pride filled her voice.

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