Page 44 of Meet Me on Greenwood

It had been a grueling day at the office. More patients than I could reasonably see, and with the oil industry contracting, too many of them had little to offer in payment. I'd managed to keep the practice afloat largely thanks to the Page’s, whose prestige had given me access to some of the area’s most affluent clients. It was a debt I felt with increasing weight.

Some days I contemplated shuttering my practice and selling goods from a roadside stand, as my mother once had. But another part of me knew what I represented. I couldn’t bear to squander the chance I’d been given to make a difference.

Unfortunately, one of my most demanding patients was currently sitting across from me looking deeply aggrieved by the existence of vegetables.

Paul Hatley. Second visit this week. Same complaint.

"Have you been staying away from the red meat and eating vegetables like I told you?" I asked.

He waved his hand. "How can a man live off of weeds?"

I took a deep breath. "What about your daily doses of castor oil, so your food passes more easily through the digestive system?"

Paul adjusted his hat, revealing his balding head. "I’m trying, but I do forget."

"Use the pillbox I gave you. You’ll feel a lot better if you make some small adjustments to your diet."

"I don’t know. Beth always did that. Is there anything else you can give me?"

Paul’s wife, Beth, had died a little over a year ago and that was when his trips to see me became more frequent.

I was getting ready to go into my spiel about healthy diets when a knock sounded on the door. My receptionist, Donna, looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, Dr. Whitaker. Ms. Page is here. She says it is—urgent."

I stood, shaking Paul’s hand. He looked up at me. "You don’t have to say a word. When you find the love of your life and she calls, you better run to her." His eyes drifted down. "I wish I’d done that."

I patted his shoulder. "You were married for over fifty years. That counts for something."

Paul looked off to the side as he did more often these days, like the edges of his mind were softening and he could only see me if he looked straight ahead.

I asked Donna to get him another pill box before opening my office door and was surprised to see the lights were turned off. The only light at all was the sliver between the window curtains. I shut the door and went to turn on the switch when I heard Sarah’s voice say, "Don’t you dare."

She was laying across my desk, all my papers scattered onto the floor.

"Sarah," I said. "What is this?"

"Come find out," she said, beckoning me with her finger.

I approached slowly looking back at the door. "What if someone knows you’re in here?"

"Who’s going to tell? Donna?" she asked. "Donna and I played together as kids while her mama cleaned for us. She would never cross me." Sarah gripped my tie and pulled me down to kiss her. I’d always admired the way Sarah Page knew what she wanted and took it, even when people told her she couldn’t. If it were acceptable for women of her status to run businesses, she would make the surrounding men cower and bow at her feet.

"I want you to touch me," she whispered, wrapping her legs around my waist, placing my hand on her breast. Thoughts of taking her right on my desk ran through my mind. We’d held out at her insistence, but it seemed she’d changed her mind. I was turned on—there was no doubt about that—but I withdrew carefully, feeling like something wasn’t quite right.

"Your father would murder me if he knew I’d been improper with you. We’d better stop."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, my father. Must you bring him up now? All I’m asking for is a little kiss…" She grabbed my left buttock. "And cuddle."

"You know we won’t stop there." I straightened a loose curl of her hair and kissed her cheek. "I thought you wanted to be a—what did you call it—a proper lady."

She groaned in frustration.

"What’s got you all riled up, anyway?"

I flicked on the light and a caught her coy smile. "I got in?"

"In?"

"To the Miss Tulsa Pageant," she squealed. "That old bag, Ms. Eleanor, told me I was past my window. Can you imagine? I took care of her."