Page 50 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"He travels quite a bit," Camille said. "But we could arrange an introduction."

"We sure could use another doctor. It is difficult to keep them here when they can make three times as much up North."

"I don’t know that I’ll be here long enough to make a difference."

"At least meet with him." The Reverend stood and handed me an envelope. "This is for you."

The envelope was thick and I gasped at what I saw inside. "The church took up a collection. Before you try to give it back, I assure you that the people who gave are aware that you are in need and chose to give on top of their tithe."

"C.J. can take you to open up a bank account tomorrow, if you’d like," Camille offered.

"This is too generous." I pulled out half of the money and tried to give it back.

Reverend Thomas stared down at the wad of bills. "Tell you what. You meet with Dr. Brown this weekend. If he can convince you to volunteer your time at the hospital, this will be our thank you," he said, pushing the money back to me. "And young lady, this is how we do things here. We take care of our own. That is why this is the best community you will ever live in. You will see."

20

Houston

Republican Candidate for Governor Makes an Anti-Negro Campaign

Carnivals had a way of making a man forget himself. I imagined it had a lot to do with the nostalgia of popcorn, amusement rides, and penny games. Mama had been able to scrounge up enough to take me to one every year, and the memory of seeing an elephant for the first time would never leave me.

This time, I wasn’t here for my own recreation, but to support Sarah in her pageant. I’d convinced Paul Hatley to accompany me after his third unnecessary office visit of the month, insisting the fresh air would do us both good. The problems he was having didn’t stop at his diet. Paul had been lost and restless after the death of his wife. I felt bad for him.

Orcutt Amusement Park sat at the edge of a lake that was once a livestock watering hole. At some point, investors had transformed it into beautiful grounds. It was renamed Swan Lake after the signature swan boats that carried patrons across the water.

It was a beautiful day, and families had taken full advantage of it, spreading picnic blankets across the manicured lawns. The smell of fried dough and livestock cut through the afternoon heat as children wove between the legs of adults who weren't paying close enough attention to their antics.

As carefree as the day seemed, I could tell some were on edge. This was the first event I could remember that allowed Negroes to attend, though they were required to stay on one side of the lake, while whites could travel throughout.

I shook hands with three people before I'd even cleared the entrance gate. That was the thing about Tulsa. It was still small enough that everyone knew your face, yet large enough that you could fool yourself into thinking otherwise.

Paul insisted we start on the Negro side of the lake, and I didn’t mind as it appeared less crowded. I lost sight of him when I ran into Dr. Albright, who bent my ear about the oil workers' clinic. I’d nearly come up with an excuse to extricate myself and look for Paul when I saw her.

Gema was standing in line for one of the rides with Rita Thomas, laughing at something with her whole body. Just as she began to look my way, I quickly returned my attention to Albright.

"—don't you think, Houston?" he asked.

"Mm," I said. "Absolutely."

Albright looked at me strangely. "Did you hear me? I asked you when your wedding is. I want to make sure we are in town."

"Oh, it is this fall. I will get an invitation sent to you. We’d love to have you. Will you excuse me? I forgot to do something."

I left the booth and made a beeline for Gema. "Hello!" I called.

Gema turned around and the expression she gave me nearly took my breath away. She looked healthy, wearing a lime green dress that seemed to be made for her. Her hair was tied up in perfect little ringlets.

"Dr. Whitaker," Rita greeted. "What are you doing in our neck of the woods?"

"I’m here with a friend," I shrugged, looking around. "Though I seemed to have lost him."

"That is nice," Rita said looking toward Gema. "Isn’t that nice, Gema?"

Gema looked back at me. "Yes."

There was an awkward silence, and suddenly I wasn’t sure what to say, so I said the wrong thing. "My fiancé, Sarah, is up for Miss Tulsa. I’m here to support her. I think she will win. No one is more—" the last word died on my tongue. "Deserving," I finally said.