Page 11 of Coral Memories

“Then let me apply to the university like Scott did,” Ginger pleaded. “My teachers will support me, and I’ve challenged and received credit for every math class offered. I’m so far ahead I’m bored. I don’t want to wait to study the advanced math I’ll need for a degree in engineering.”

Her mother looked out the window toward the ocean and its relentless waves. Slowly, she dragged her gaze back to her daughter. “You want so much, honey.”

Feeling confused, Ginger stared at her. Her mother had supported her dreams in the past; why wouldn’t she now? “Please, let me try.”

“You take after my father, dear.” Her mother shook her head. “He was such a brilliant man.”

The rear door slammed, startling her mother. She stashed her supplies and folded the table away. “He’s home early. Go help your brothers, and I’ll start dinner.”

A wave of panic swept over Ginger. “This is my chance; I know it. I could go to school with Calvin and Scott.”

Her father entered the room, the smell of the sea and his fishing vessel clinging to his clothes. “Your chance for what, Ginger?”

Quickly, she told him about her plan. “I could leave home with Calvin and continue with him. I know I can do this. I can solve problems others can’t.”

Her father gazed at her with a mixture of pity and pride. “I’ll bet you can, peanut. You’re one heck of a chess player. At least I can still win against your brothers.”

“Give me a chance, Pa. Please.”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin and frowned at her mother. “That’s not for you.”

Ginger was stunned at his words. “But, Pa, it’s perfect for me. There will be people I can finally relate to who’ll understand me. I can study engineering?—”

“A lady engineer, imagine that!” He chuckled. “You need to be reasonable. Education requires a lot of money.”

“My teachers think I can get scholarships.”

“You will finish high school,” her father replied, his stern tone indicating the conversation was over. He turned to leave, shower, and change his clothes, just as he did six days a week.

Sensing her time was running out, Ginger seized the chance to clarify his mandate. “Once I graduate from high school, then I can go?”

Her father glanced at her mother, and another guarded look passed between them. “Mary Lou, haven’t you discussed this with your daughter?”

“But she’s so talented.” Her mother lifted her shoulders and let them fall—a familiar signal of helplessness against her husband’s decisions.

Ginger knew that was an act. Her mother was intelligent, even though she hadn’t finished school because every hand was needed on the farm.

It didn’t matter in the end. They were among many families who lost their homesteads and moved west in search of work and opportunities. Her father, proud as he was, was forced to let his wife work to put food on the table.

Mary Lou was an excellent seamstress, and she had taken in sewing for years. After settling in Summer Beach, which was then barely a town, they clawed their way back from financial ruin to a moderately comfortable station in life. Her father still bore the scars.

Watching her mother, Ginger set her jaw. Mary Lou Sheraton often minimized her intelligence in her husband’s presence, deferring decisions to him.

Ginger would never do that. Her favorite teacher at school—Beatrice Carter, who’d worked as a machinist at a factory in nearby Long Beach during the Second World War—told her women had more opportunities than ever now.

After hearing that, Ginger had decided she wouldn’t marry for a while. First, she would get an education, have an exciting career, and travel the world.

She stepped toward her father. She’d grown as tall as he was in the last two years. Ginger angled her chin at him. “If Scott can go to university a year early?—”

“Scott Smithson?” Interest fired in her father’s eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

“I know his father. A good family man.” He removed his frayed cap and ran a hand through his hair. “What if you were to marry Scott? Sounds like he has fine prospects now.”

“Pa! I don’t like him that way.” Between her father’s words and the way his hair stuck up at odd angles, he was like an alien to her.

“Scott is mighty keen on you,” he continued. “I’m sure he would welcome your help with his studies.”

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