Page 23 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"Yes," I said finally. "They call me Dr. Cross."

That seemed to stun her. "Doctor? I have never met a female doctor before," she said skeptically.

She added palm sized pancakes to my plate, though I wasn’t hungry. "What kind of university allowed a Black woman to get a medical degree?"

I sucked in a breath. "All of them, I suppose, if you have the grades and the money. Johns Hopkins allowed me to get a medical degree and a doctorate simultaneously." I closed my eyes as I bit into the warm cakes. "This is delicious," I said, taking another bite.

"Eat up," she said, touching my head again. "You slept all night."

I didn’t have much time to think on the strange answers Lettie had given me before I heard the low sound of a horse clopping nearby.

"That will be the doctor," she said.

She reached over, tying the laces above my bosom before covering me with a blanket. "You finish those pancakes."

Horses? I pushed the plate to my side and laid back, trying to piece together the last things I could remember. I’d definitely been on a rooftop chasing after Bri, but this place made no sense. Part of me wanted to close my eyes and wake back up when I was less disoriented.

I’m not sure what I’d imagined Dr. Whitaker to look like, but my breath caught at the sight of his deep blue eyes and red streaked hair. He had his sleeves rolled up like he’d been outside chopping wood. I’d never really looked twice at white men, always sensing they wanted the exotic experience of dating a Black woman, rather than actually wanting to date me. This man, though, he was the perfect kind of white man—confident, but unassuming, with light freckles and a deep tan. He smiled as he entered, slipping on his glasses, and goodness, those frames added a whole other element.

"I’m glad to see you’re awake," he said.

Lettie brought over a warm basin of water which he used to wash his hands thoroughly with soap.

"I’m Houston, and this is my friend Dr. Perry Brown."

I looked over at the door where an older Black man was standing with what looked like a medical bag in his hands.

He greeted me cordially. "It is nice to meet you, young lady. How are you feeling?"

"I don’t know," I said. "Confused, I guess. Where am I?" I asked for the third time as if this time it would make any sense.

"You are at my home, Whitaker Cottage," Dr. Whitaker said. "I found you in the middle of the road. I nearly ran you over."

I grimaced, feeling pain in my shoulders and ribs. "Are you sure you didn’t?"

Perry put his bag down and laughed. "You have spirit. That is a great sign."

"If it is alright with you," Houston continued, "I hoped we could have Perry look at you to make sure you are healing okay. He is more familiar with head injuries."

I nodded.

Perry took his time looking inside my ears and using a light to peer into my eyes. I marveled at the medical supplies. The design was antique to me, but these were new. "Seems like you are doing a good job already, Houston," Perry said. "You didn’t need me."

Houston leaned against the fireplace, but met my gaze. "How is your memory Gema?"

My eyes widened at the sound of my name from his lips.

He smiled sheepishly. "It was either Bri or Gema. You said both in your sleep." He tilted his head. "I don’t know why, but you seem like more of a Gema."

"Good thing you are right, or I might form a complex."

"What state are you in Gema?"

"Oklahoma," I said smoothly.

Perry nodded approvingly and made a small note. Houston hadn't moved from the fireplace, but his eyes were still on me.

"Can you tell me what city we are in specifically?" Perry asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.