Page 11 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"You don’t fool me, Whitaker," he said putting a finger to my chest. My heart raced as I prepared myself for his next words. "You may have bought that girl a day, maybe two, but I will have her. Don’t get in my way, and I won’t get in yours."

My heart sank as I realized that my complexion meant I had just enough power to stop Sterling right now, but it wasn’t enough to save Mary from all the future encounters she'd have with him. Men like Sterling only understood power, and power came from money and being born with skin white enough that you could hold on to it. I’d understood that long before I’d come to Tulsa. It was why I was here.

I stood frozen, caught between wanting to beat this man senseless, and knowing that doing so could jeopardize everything I’d built. "Sarah is expecting me," I said stepping back, resisting every urge to deck him. When I reached the entryway, I turned back briefly. The words came out before I could stop them.

"Leave that girl alone."

Sterling grinned as if I had challenged him, and I feared I’d made things worse for Mary as the sound of his laughter followed me outside onto the porch.

I tried to settle down after my interaction with Sterling, but I couldn’t quite get there. My jaw ached from how long I'd been clenching it. My hands were curled into the same fists they'd been in the hallway. I released them, one finger at a time, and set them flat against my sides. It wasn't just anger, though there was plenty of that left over. It was a kind of helplessness that came from knowing exactly what I'd witnessed and how little I could do about it. Sarah must have noticed because she filled the silence, talking about how she wanted a porch just like this one. She described the wood she’d use, down to the color of paint as if the previous encounter hadn’t transpired.

Realizing my foul mood was unfair to her in this moment, I told Sarah how I was building a similar porch and how I’d love to build her a swinging bench so we could watch the stars at night. How could I expect any different when this was simply how she’d been raised—taught from the cradle that servants like Mary existed to be managed, not seen? It couldn’t be malice, just a mold she’d been poured into without an opportunity to question it. She could be kind; I’d witnessed her organizing food drives, her tithing, her generous nature with others in her community. She was a good woman, and in time perhaps I could help her see that Mary was not the one at fault. Still there was this nagging voice of whether she’d run if she knew the truth about me. I shook my head. It didn’t matter anymore. This was my life now.

"Hmm," she said. "That sounds nice." She curled up closer to me, much closer than she typically did, especially with her parents inside. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. She took one and laid it on her stomach. I went still.

"Are you sure this is okay?" I asked.

"I am," she said. "You could even go a little lower if you like." To show that she was serious she started moving my hand down, but I snatched it back and stood. Sarah pouted as if I’d hurt her feelings.

"Normally," I paused. "I would take you up on it." I ran my hand through my hair. "I don’t want to be shot by your father."

She laughed, throwing her head back. "Is that what you are worried about?" she asked fluttering her long, thick lashes. "Because I’m wondering how much longer you’re going to make me wait to receive that box in your pocket."

I looked at her expectant face as she sat on the bench, then back at the front door where several of her family’s eyes peered through the screen. They widened as soon as they saw me and ducked. That was when I realized all of this was orchestrated, but the real question was whether I cared. Sarah was beautiful, she came from money and had good connections. I could envision her making me happy, and yet situations like what I witnessed moments ago with Mary gave me pause.

"I figured." Sarah whispered reaching for my belt. "You might want a test ride before you get down on one knee, and I just want you to know that." Her eyes flicked up to me. "I would be amenable."

I bent on one knee and cupped her face. "I don’t need sex to love you."

Sex. She blushed at the word.

"I’m sorry," I apologized. "I shouldn’t be crude." I pulled out the box Larry had given me and opened it. My eyes widened taking in the ring with its large diamond surrounded by many smaller diamonds. "Sarah Page," I began.

"Oh magnolias in spring!" she cried. "Mama! Daddy!"

The door flew open as all eleven people inside spilled out from the house.

I looked at the expectant faces peering at us as they clambered onto the porch and then back at Sarah, who was already extending her hand.

"Hold on," Larry said pushing William Collins to the front as he turned the crank on his new camera.

"Move a little closer honey," William instructed. When she was in place, he motioned to me. "Okay, go ahead young man."

"Sarah Page," I said, because there was nothing left to do but finish it. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" She was crying, and even that was beautifully done. A single tear that managed not to smudge her makeup as she dabbed it away. "Yes, of course, yes—"

I put the ring on her finger and stood to kiss her. Sarah’s eyes slid to the diamond before our lips met. I told myself I was doing the right thing. The final click of the camera sounded behind us and it was done.

5

Gema

Colored Woman Forced to Ride in Baggage Car!

The flight from Minneapolis to Tulsa was hell. Between delays and the stiff seats at the airport, I was in no mood for Maise’s unrelenting rendition of "Oooooklahoma, where wind falls softly on the plains."

"Can you give it a rest? No one sings that here?"