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Summer 1940
Ellen pushed at the damp tendrils of auburn hair that had escaped her tight bun. She deposited her tray of mostly uneaten lunch with the rest of the dirty dishes, keeping the glass of cold lemonade. She stepped outside, found a bench in the shade, sipped her lemonade and closed her eyes. Ellen had 15 minutes before she had to return to work.
She had worked at Los Angeles County Hospital every summer since graduating from high school in Lindsay, a small agricultural town in the central San Joaquin Valley in California. It was the only way she was able to afford four years of college at Loma Linda University and then two years of class work at CME, the College for Medical Evangelists. She had finished two years of clinical work at this same hospital, as well as at the new Ellen G. White Memorial Hospital. She had just begun a one-year internship at Los Angeles County Hospital.
Her summer jobs had not only helped her save money for each school year, but working in the same hospital where she had continued her education helped her become familiar with the workings of the hospital and staff. Ellen had worked in almost every department over the years. Mostly she assisted the nurses; bathing patients, assisting with procedures, distributing meal trays. But she had also worked in reception, the accounting office, the kitchen, and housekeeping. The stipend she earned as an intern was small, but it paid her room and board.
“If I was an artist, I’d paint a picture of you sitting there just like that.”
“Abraham,” she said, opening her eyes and smiling up at the tall black man standing a few feet away.
She had met Abraham Moss during the first summer she spent working at the hospital. During her time working in housekeeping, they had become friends. They did not spend much time together at work, though, wary of gossip. The hospital was huge and there were days that she never saw him at all while on duty. However, they spent as much of their free time together as they could sneak in.
Growing up in Lindsay, Ellen had not encountered very many people of color. There had been Mexicans and Filipinos that worked in her father’s orange groves and the neighboring farms. But in recent years, with the Depression and the Dust Bowl, they were replaced with white families relocating from Oklahoma, Arkansas and Texas. There was a Japanese family with orange groves bordering her father’s. There were few black families in the area and before leaving for college, she had not met any.
When she first met Abraham, Ellen had been intrigued by the smooth, dark cocoa color of his skin and intrigued by his deep voice. She soon found herself laughing frequently at his dry wit. For so long, she had been singularly focused on her education and becoming a doctor. With Abraham, she was learning not to take herself or the world so seriously. Though he had only an eighth-grade education, she discovered he was a voracious reader and held his own in discussions on nearly every topic, from religion to politics, literature and music.
Ellen had never been the type of girl who swooned over movie stars or the popular boys at home. She was always too serious for what she considered frivolous and silly crushes. But for the first time in her life, she found her heart racing at the sight of a man. The woman who owned the boarding house where Ellen roomed had very strict rules... absolutely no entertaining a person of the opposite gender in the rooms, only in the drawing room with a chaperone. She was sure Mrs. Appleton would be apoplectic if a black man had ever visited the boarding house. She was also very strict about the curfew and on the occasions that Ellen had to work a night shift at the hospital, she was required to bring a note from her supervisor.
Ellen and Abraham had found time to be together; picnics in the park, dinners at cheap diners, matinees at the movie theater. Most of the time they found places to be alone. While there no specific laws about socializing with a person of another race, interracial marriage was illegal and fraternization looked upon with distrust and distaste. They were careful in public, not to be seen holding hands or sitting too closely.
Ellen loved their time together. She loved listening to Abraham’s deep voice. Sometimes they read to one another from whatever books they had discovered. Other times they just talked. Ellen told him about growing in rural Lindsay, her father’s orange groves, the winter's dense fog and the summer's scorching heat. He told her about growing up in Watts, and his love of school and books. But his father died when he was in the eighth grade, a barroom brawl that turned deadly, and Abraham and his brother had to quit school to help support their mother and three little sisters.
He laughed at her descriptions of growing up with a devout Seventh-Day Adventist vegetarian mother and a father who occasionally attended church with them but did not subscribe to many of their beliefs, particularly the vegetarian diet. While her mother cooked meat for her father, he had accepted her refusal to prepare pork or any “unclean meat.” Ellen and her siblings were allowed to choose and although Ellen occasionally ate meat, she primarily followed her mother’s example.
The night before she left to go back for her last year at CME, he took her to a nightclub in Watts... the first she had ever set foot in. She was wide-eyed at the people drinking liquor while she ordered lemonade. The jazz musicians were loud, the room was smoky, and she had a headache by the time they left, but it was one of the best nights of her life.
War was engulfing Europe and conservation efforts had just started in the United States. Buses were gradually replacing electrical trolley cars on street rails. The iron rails were melted down and would be sent to Britain as part of the Lend-Lease program that President Roosevelt hoped would soon be enacted into law by Congress, However, some routes still had both modes of transport.
Walking Ellen to the trolley that would take her to the boarding house, Abraham suddenly pulled her into a dark alley and held her close. Before that night only brief, chaste kisses had been exchanged. But that night he kissed her deeply, his tongue, tasting of whiskey, exploring her mouth. He whispered in her ear that he loved her and then his lips were moving over her eyes, her face, her throat, until she found herself breathless and clinging to him just like a heroine or hero in all those dime novels she had been forbidden to read at home. Before she got onto the streetcar that screeched to a halt, he told her again that he loved her and that he would write to her. Glancing around to make sure no white people were around to see, he kissed her again before telling her goodbye.
He wrote to her, and she wrote back. Long letters about school and work and their families... always ending with declarations of love. Twice during the year, she had taken the bus to Los Angeles for a weekend and spent every minute with him. Every spare minute, that is. She could not afford a hotel room and had to stay with a family from the local church. It took all of her creativity to find excuses to leave the well-meaning couple and their curious children and strike out on her own in the city. Once Abraham had borrowed his brother’s old Ford pickup and had driven to Loma Linda for a weekend, sleeping in the truck and taking her for long drives when she was able to escape the dean of her dormitory.
When she returned for the summer, they picked up as though she had never left. This time, though, they did not have to say goodbye at the end of the summer. Ellen began her clinical studies in the fall, and divided her time between the two hospitals. She was deliriously happy and refused to look beyond the next three years... two years until graduation and another year of internship.
She knew at some point she needed to make a decision about where to practice once she had her medical license. She had always assumed she would return to the Lindsay area, but now she was not so sure she wanted to leave Los Angeles. She knew that marriage to Abraham was not a possibility, yet she could not imagine spending the rest of her life with anyone but Abraham. She pushed those thoughts aside and tried to focus on her studies and on the moments she would be able to steal with Abraham.
“You look tired,” he said now.
She shrugged. “It’s been a busy day. How about you? I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Same with me... busy. I’ve got the day off tomorrow, how about you?”
“Oh! Yes, I’m off, too.”
He glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “Maybe we can spend the day together?”
“Yes, absolutely!”
“Meet me at Dooley’s Café for breakfast... say 8 a.m.?”
“I’ll be there.”
His smile lit up his face. “Tomorrow then.”
Sipping her lemonade, she watched him walk away. Sighing, she returned to the cafeteria, deposited her glass in the tub of dirty dishes, made her way back to the medical floor and lost herself in work.
Ellen dressed in a cotton dress with small yellow daisies on a blue background. It buttoned down the front with a slim belt at the waist.
Dooley’s Café was far enough away from the hospital that Ellen and Abraham felt relatively safe meeting there. Red stools lined the length of the white linoleum counter. The booths along the wall of windows were cozy. It was small and family run, and they did not refuse to serve Negros or Mexicans... although white customers did not ever share a booth with any of them.
Abraham was waiting for her when she arrived at the café. Her breath caught at the sight of him... even after knowing him for six years, he caused her heart to race. He was tall and muscular, his shoulders broad. His dark skin made his teeth look even whiter when he smiled, which he did often. Abraham’s face was round, but his black eyes had a slight almond shape suggesting some Indian heritage, while his full lips and slightly flattened nose spoke of his African roots. He wore his curly black hair cropped short.
Abraham stood when she arrived and Ellen slipped into the booth across from him. The waitress arrived to take their orders; pancakes, eggs, bacon and sausage, and a big glass of milk for Abraham, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, toast, and a glass of orange juice for Ellen. She tried to ignore the disapproving looks from the white patrons, as well as the borderline rude service from the waitress, an older woman with wisps of brown hair escaping her bun and tired brown eyes. They chatted as they ate and when they finished, he paid and escorted her from the diner.
They had walked three blocks when they heard the sound of running behind them. They turned to see a boy running after them and waving a wallet. He was about 16, not much taller than Ellen was and thin, his unruly dark brown hair flopped into his eyes.
“Did you leave your wallet,” he asked as he caught up to them.
“No,” Abraham said, patting his pocket. “My wallet is right here.”
“Well, shoot,” the boy said with a grin, “this one must be mine, then.”
Ellen looked at him quizzically; not understanding how he could have thought his wallet belonged to someone else. A sound behind her caused her to turn around in time to see the two men pushing Abraham into the alley. She opened her mouth to scream, but gasped in surprise when the boy grabbed a handful of her hair and shoved her into the alley. Before she could react, he had both of her wrists gripped in his hand behind her back and his other hand over her mouth.
She watched in horror as the two men punched Abraham. Neither man was as tall as Abraham was, but with both pummeling him, he did not have a chance to defend himself. Both were in their late thirties, and one looked like an older, bigger version of the boy holding Ellen. The other man had short, dark blond hair.
Being so much taller than his attackers, Abraham had taken most of the blows to his chest and stomach. Abraham’s legs buckled and he fell to his knees. The blond man picked up a board he found lying on the ground and Ellen cried out behind the boy’s hand.
“This,” he said, jabbing Abraham in the chest with the board, “is what happens to niggers who think they’re good enough for white women.”
The hand across her mouth muffled Ellen’s scream as the man swung the board like a baseball bat, hitting Abraham across the left side of his ribs. Abraham fell forward onto his hands and knees, his head hanging down. Ellen struggled to get free, but the boy only tightened his grip. The brown haired man turned his back on the blond man as he prepared to strike once again with the board. Facing Ellen and the boy, he grinned.
“And when we finish with him, we’re gonna teach you a lesson about what happens to white women who whore around with niggers.”
“Well, maybe we’ll just let him watch,” the blond man said with a snicker.
Jerking Abraham’s head upward, he tried to grab a handful of Abraham’s hair. Ellen’s terror-filled eyes locked with his and for a brief moment, she saw a myriad of emotions flashing across his face: pain, guilt, hopelessness and rage. Then the brown haired man moved toward her, blocking her view of Abraham. He grabbed her arm. The man and the boy wrestled her to the ground, and the man wrenched her arms over her head and held them immobile.
“Go ahead, boy,” the man said with a laugh. “You go first... warm her up for the men.”
Ellen’s eyes widened as the boy knelt between her legs and roughly pushed her skirt up to her waist. She tried to twist and pull her arms free, but the man held them tightly. She tried to scream and a dirty rag was forced into her mouth. She pulled one leg back and tried to kick at the boy but he caught her leg. He reached up and slapped her face hard. Tears ran down her face, her sobs muffled by the rag in her mouth, as he ripped open her bloomers.
She groaned with dread when the boy opened his zipper and pulled down his newly purchased pants. His penis sprung free from his boxer shorts and he pushed her legs further apart. The taunts of the other two men, urging him on, sounded in her ears as though coming from a distance. She closed her eyes as the boy leaned over her, his breath hot and foul in her face.