Chapter 3
3
T he lunch run was long over, and Marina wondered where Jack was. He’d promised to meet her so they could look at new furnishings for their home. Then, she spied his car parked exactly where he’d left it earlier, near Ginger’s cottage.
Had he spent all day with Ginger without a break?
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 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.
The last thing Marina wanted was for this project to burden Ginger. Jack didn’t have a deadline for this manuscript. To her knowledge, he hadn’t even pitched it to his agent.
Stealing another look at Ginger, she decided he must be more attuned to Ginger’s emotional stamina, or she would halt these long sessions. As strong as her grandmother was, Marina would not allow Jack to wear her down. She would talk to him.
“I’ll meet you at the house soon,” Marina said.
He closed his notebook. “Sounds good. I’ll pick up Leo on the way home.”
After Jack left, Ginger motioned to a chair. “Stay for a moment.”
Marina sank onto the chair beside her. “You two worked all day. Was that too much for you?”
“It wasn’t too bad, but I was glad to see you,” Ginger said, smoothing a hand over Marina’s arm.
“I’ll talk to Jack and ask him to slow down.”
“I’m quite strong, dear. Don’t think of me as feeble. However, some of my memories are emotionally draining.”
“You hide it so well that no one notices.” Marina patted Ginger’s hand, which still looked strong and capable. “I’ll make a pot of tea and bring dinner from the cafe for you and Heather. Vegetarian lasagna was the lunch special today.”
“It’s very much appreciated, my dear.” She held her arms to Marina and hugged her.
A few minutes later, Marina left for home after delivering tea and supper. She was preparing a salad with the gougères and Cornish game hens she’d prepped this morning.
When Jack walked in alone, Marina looked up. “I thought you were picking up Leo?”
“I was, but Samantha’s parents invited him for a beach barbecue. I couldn’t top that, so I told him I’d see him tomorrow instead.” A lazy smile touched his face. “Since we’re alone, how about a glass of wine before dinner?”
“I’d love that. The Gruyère and Parmesan cheese bites you like are almost ready, too.” She had put a trio of small, herb-encrusted hens into the oven. The extra one would be a good afternoon snack for Leo tomorrow. At eleven years old, he was ravenous, eating plenty to support his growth spurt. She would also steam broccoli and serve it over wild rice and toasted quinoa tonight.
Marina joined Jack on the front steps. She offered him the plate of warm cheese bites, another specialty from Ginger. The land sloped toward the ocean so they could see the beach from here. In the distance, she saw Leo throwing a frisbee with Samantha, his best friend.
“Mmm, delicious.” Jack handed her a glass of red wine. “How was your day?”
As she sipped the wine, she gave him a brief recap and then asked about his progress on Ginger’s biography.
“We’ve only touched the surface of her life. That’s the challenge of writing a story based on someone who has lived such a rich, varied life. Her story sounds like a sprawling saga, more like fiction than fact. I’ve been mesmerized all day.”
Marina put her hand on Jack’s knee. “About that…I want you to go easy on Ginger. Don’t try to extract her entire life history in a few sittings. That’s not the way she tells her story, but more than that, I’m afraid you might exhaust her.”
Jack grinned. “She nearly wore me out today.”
Marina shook her head. “You don’t know her like I do. She was weary but was holding herself together for you. Ginger has tremendous stamina, but she likes a small nap in the afternoon to recharge. You didn’t give her that chance today.”
Immediately, Jack looked remorseful. “Honestly, I would have stopped if I thought she was waning. Now I feel terrible.”
Leaning into him, Marina rubbed his shoulder. “It’s okay, but please be careful with her. She has as much energy as people half her age but needs breaks. Everyone does, including you. I saw you stifling a yawn.”
“I guess so,” he admitted. “It’s just that her story is so fascinating, and we’re only at the beginning. When you look at her life in the context of history, you realize that she was at the forefront of many inventions, political developments, and social upheaval. Her story will be tremendously inspiring. And we haven’t even gotten to her secret work yet.”
Marina frowned at that. “She’s family first. If she shares something that might put her at risk, remember that you don’t have to include everything in the book.”
Jack hugged her. “I promise.”
“Are you sure?” She knew how dedicated Jack was to his profession.
He raised his hand. “I solemnly swear. Family comes first.”
She accepted that, but still, she wondered if he could adhere to that promise. Jack was a professional known for being relentless and serving up the unvarnished truth. His investigative reporting had landed people in prison.
Marina had no idea what sort of secrets Ginger might have.
“Tomorrow, she promised to tell me how she met Bertrand.”
“Not tomorrow.” Marina nudged him.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, looking apologetic. “Day after tomorrow, then.”
Satisfied, Marina nodded. “That’s a good story.” However, she wondered if it would be the same as she knew. “And tread carefully about sensitive topics.”
He kissed her cheek. “You can sit with us if you’d like.”
“Maybe I will.” Ginger was their treasure, and as much as she loved Jack, she wanted to ensure her grandmother was okay with his interview methods—not that Ginger couldn’t handle Jack.
Two days later, Marina joined Ginger and Jack in the comfortable living room at the cottage. They sat on the white canvas slip-covered sofa and chairs strewn with colorful beach pillows.
Marina leaned forward, touching Ginger’s knee as she sat in a wingback chair, commanding the room like an empress. “Jack promised that he’ll allow breaks whenever you want. And you’re not to work long hours.”
Jack nodded at her words. “My apologies for the other day, Ginger. I was engrossed in your story.” He brought out a sepia photograph from the old album. “When we left off, you were about to talk about Jesse. Do you feel like starting there?”
Nodding, Ginger took the photo from him. “Jesse was such a dear.” She studied the photo for a moment.
Marina looked at Jack. His attitude was much better than the other day.
Gesturing at the photograph, Ginger drew a breath. “This was the last happy day we were to know for some time. You see, Jesse drowned the next day.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jack said softly.
“Ginger, you don’t have to talk about that,” Marina interjected.
Her grandmother held up her hand. “It’s alright. This is important for me to memorialize for the family.”
“Only if you’re sure,” Marina added, glancing at Jack.
“You see, for a family who lived by the sea,” Ginger began, “I wondered how a soul I loved so dearly could succumb to a watery grave. We all knew better than to risk strong tides, but it happened in the blink of an eye. I was entirely unprepared for my brother’s accident.”
“How did it happen?” Jack asked gently.
Ginger smiled. “I once told my granddaughters that Jesse was swept away on angel’s wings, but they were only children. Jesse and I had been playing catch on the beach. I was a little older, and I threw the ball harder than I should have to him. An offshore gust swept it even farther over the waves. Being close in age, we were quite competitive. He crashed into the water to retrieve it, ventured a little too far, and a riptide dragged him under.”
Jack made a note and waited for her to continue.
“At that time, my thin, childish arms were no match for nature’s raw power,” Ginger continued. “I splashed after him but couldn’t reach him. My youthful force of will wasn’t enough to save him, and I was pulled under the surface as well. Somehow, I managed to scream for help above the roar of the waves.”
Marina touched her shoulder. “You don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.”
“Let me finish.” Ginger drew a breath. “My father plucked me from the surf and threw me into my mother’s arms before diving after Jesse. Mama always maintained that the extra second or two didn’t matter; reaching my brother in time to save him had been impossible. So they saved me, even though I wished to trade places with Jesse.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Marina said. Now she knew why Ginger had insisted on early swim lessons when they were young and watched them closely at the beach.
“I always felt it was. I shouldn’t have thrown the ball that hard near the waves. We weren’t supposed to be that close to the ocean. Our parents looked away from us for only a few moments while unpacking the picnic. All these years, I’ve had tremendous guilt over this, yet I know my parents must have suffered even more.”
Jack put down his notebook. “It was an unfortunate accident.”
“I understand that now,” Ginger said, her shoulders sloping as if from the burden she’d carried. “I certainly wasn’t old enough to throw a ball with precision, and waves often catch adults off guard. After that, I swore to make it up to our parents by excelling in every endeavor and being the best daughter I could be. I vowed to live two lifetimes for us, more than a hundred years if I could.”
“An extra lifetime for Jesse,” Marina murmured. So this is what had been behind Ginger’s childhood drive. A vow to her brother.
“I have certainly tried,” Ginger said, touching a finger to the corner of her eye. “My goodness, I didn’t realize recounting this story would affect me so.”
“Let’s take a break.” Jack quickly handed Ginger a tissue while Marina stroked her hand.
Marina nodded, relieved that Jack wasn’t pushing her grandmother anymore.
Ginger rose and excused herself. “When I return, I’ll tell you all about Bertrand. That’s a much happier story, I promise.”