Page 51 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"Well," Rita said, waving her fan quickly. "We wish her the very best."

I should have left. I’d decided it would be best, when curiosity planted my feet. "Have you settled in all right?" I asked Gema.

"Very well, thank you. Everyone has been extraordinarily generous."

"Good. That's—good." I cleared my throat. "I heard Reverend Thomas may have arranged something at the hospital for you."

"He mentioned it," she said carefully.

"Perry is here today, if you wanted me to speak on your behalf." I held up my nearly healed hand. "He’d be impressed with this. I could—" I stopped. "That is, if you haven't already been in touch with him." What was wrong with me? I felt like the words were tumbling out in a nonsensical manner that was obvious for all to see. It was unnerving.

Rita looked between us with the expression of a woman cataloguing information she intended to use later.

"I would appreciate that," Gema said finally. "If it isn't too much trouble."

"No trouble."

The three of us stood in silence a moment too long.

"Wonderful," Rita said, taking Gema's arm. "Lead the way, Dr. Whitaker."

I led them over to the colored section, where Negros were able to sell their wares. Dr. Brown had a booth similar to the white physicians, though his focused on tuberculosis education and maternal survival, an important initiative as midwifery was being phased out at a time when there was a shortage of doctors, white and Black in the area.

Dr. Brown greeted me with a smile. "Well, you are a sight for sore eyes. How are you doing Houston?"

"Well. I wanted to reintroduce you to someone."

Dr. Brown’s eyes widened as he caught sight of Gema. "My word. Is this the young lady you were caring for only a couple weeks back?"

She extended her hand. "Gema, and I know you had a lot to do with it. Thank you for such great care."

"Oh, Houston is being much too modest. He did it all. I came after the fact to give a second opinion, though he did not need it. It is nice to see you again Ms. Rita. Is your mother here?"

"She will be later," Rita said. "She’s furiously baking pies to raise money for the church."

"Well, you tell her that if she makes a peach cobbler, to set it aside for me. I’ll be taking that home."

She smiled. "I’ll do my best."

He turned back to Gema. "Now, the reverend has not stopped calling me about you Gema, or should I say Dr. Cross?"

"Gema is fine, and if you need a volunteer at the hospital, I’m happy to help in whatever way I can."

"Well, if Houston and the reverend can vouch for you, we’d love to have you, though you’d have to work under my license until we can verify yours."

I watched her stiffen for a brief moment. It was so slight I almost missed it. "She definitely knows wound care," I said holding up my hand. "Almost healed."

"What is your specialty, Gema?"

"Neurology." She smiled. "I can do basic things of course, but I imagine you don’t have a large need for someone who specializes in epilepsy."

He smiled. "I think we can find plenty for you to do. I hear you are a therapist, too."

She winced. "I haven’t done therapy in a few years, but I can get by."

"We have so many men, in particular, who are fine physically, but are struggling with their minds. You could be a great help to us. Would you be able to start Monday?"

She looked to Rita, who shrugged. "All we have on the calendar is brunch."