The Other Side - J. D. Robb [155]
Maribelle nodded.
“But when he was finally born he . . . my dear, he was born with a whole head of thick red hair. What was I to do? It was clearly an omen, so we named him Rufus Albert, still quite intent on calling him Albert but, well, what can I say? He was Rufus with the bright red roof of hair on his head. Ruffie caught on the first night I breast-fed him, just him and me in the silence, the lights low. . . . ” Her voice faded away as she recalled the memory. “Little Ruffie.”
After a moment or two she looked up and seemed almost surprised to see M.J. sitting there. “Andrew was so proud to have a son. Delighted. He couldn’t wait for him to start walking and talking . . . swinging bats and chasing balls, all those things that fathers look forward to sharing with their sons. Andrew loved to sail, you know.”
“I didn’t.”
Imogene smiled. “He was a Southampton boy growing up, but when we met and married, he was settled in Charleston . . . South Carolina? A beautiful city. I enjoyed living there, but I have to admit, I did get homesick from time to time. The first time I brought Ruffie home I was thrilled to see that my papa had had this room completely redecorated for him . . . his first grandchild, you understand.
“Did you know that when the house was built this was actually two more bedrooms? Apparently, your great-grandfather Horatio didn’t want to get caught in a small house with a large family.” She laughed softly. “Instead, the opposite happened, and it was our papa who had three healthy, noisy daughters and a nervous, sickly wife on his hands. We each had our own room, of course, but he very cleverly had the wall removed in this space and turned it into our playroom for the sake of our mother’s sanity.”
M.J. laughed. “At least we know that worked. We haven’t seen her wandering around looking for the mind she lost.”
Imogene’s expression was droll. “It’s your date. It’s affecting your concentration, isn’t it?”
Maribelle grinned and bobbed her head. “A little, but I can handle it. I think. Go on. Please. You brought Ruffie home, and grandfather had redecorated the playroom for him. . . . ”
“It was the first time I felt like I’d actually done something to please him. I gave him a grandson, a male heir. But now don’t get me wrong, I know Papa loved me. He loved all his girls, we were his world. He just . . . well, he had certain notions about women . . . he even thought his notions were fairly progressive. He wanted all of us to be well-educated but only in certain fields and only about certain things. There were only a few specific things he felt women did well, and being a wife and mother was at the top of the list, no matter how well-educated she was.”
“And you?”
“I met Andrew when I was in graduate school. I was in Charleston working on my thesis in history. I wanted to teach at the college level, hoping older students would make my teaching feel more consequential, I suppose. Teaching students who wanted to be in my class as opposed to those who had to be when I taught high school.”
“I get that. So what was your thesis about?”
“The contribution of slaves to our early development as a nation. At the time I met Andrew I was investigating a man by the name of Robert Smalls who was born into slavery, escaped, and helped write the South Carolina Constitution at the constitutional convention in Charleston in 1868. Later he served in the state legislature in both the House of Representatives and the Senate, and after that he was elected to the United States House of Representatives. A brave, fascinating man.” She became thoughtful, glanced away then back at Maribelle. “Naturally, I lost all interest in my thesis the instant