those dishes and the horrific history that it held.
You think some macaroni and cheese is going to get you out of this? It won’t.
Blake clapped. “Okay. There we go. The show is coming on.”
Melody continued to draw.
I looked at one of the screens hoping that the show could get me out of my mood during this dinner. When we got home, everything would change.
What am I going to do now?
Throughout the restaurant, TVs hung in each corner, blasting Colors of Love. Everybody in Fullbrooke was excited to see the show. The series had been filmed in the area and was loosely based on the town’s founder—slave plantation owner Tom Fullbrooke and his secret affair with his slave Fanny.
They’d called the show a love story, but how could a relationship between a slave master and his slave involve romance?
On the screen, the Colors of Love intro played. Piano music filled the air. The actress performing as Fanny smiled in the kitchen as she mixed something in her bowl.
I doubt Fanny grinned like that.
At least she looked like the real Fanny—who had old pictures placed in the Fullbrooke museum downtown. She was honey-skinned with a short curly afro.
On the screen, an image of Tom Fullbrooke appeared—midnight black hair and blue eyes. Tall and muscular. The real monster that had owned more slaves than any master in the state of Georgia.
I can’t believe this place is going to show the premier here. I mean it’s about their relatives, but still. . .
“Yesterday was rainy.” Blake interrupted. “That traffic was crazy—”
“That’s what took you so long to get home?” I turned from the TV.
“Of course, baby.” Blake’s phone buzzed. He took it out, frowned, and set it on the table.
“Who was that?”
“Work. But I’m with my two babies. There is nothing that’s going to get in the way of our special time.” Blake pressed a button on the device. “In fact, let me turn this off. Don’t you worry about any more interruptions.”
“The insurance company must’ve had an emergency to call you for the first time on a Sunday.” I tapped my nails. “Are you sure you don’t want to answer?”
“Shoot. They can wait.” Blake wiped the sweat off again and then chugged some of his water. “It’s date night with my two special girls.”
“We’re so lucky to have you.” I frowned. “So glad you were able to make it home last night.”
“Yeah. You know how this town is with a little rain. People driving crazy all over the place.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Must’ve been five or six accidents on the way. A car pile-up.”
“A car pile-up?”
“Yeah.” Blake unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “One guy hit another. All the cars in the back were so close. They slammed into each other. People died and what not. There were explosions and fires. I’m just glad I made it out of there alive. That’s what took me so long to get home.”
“What road was this on?”
“Man, where is that waitress?” Blake scanned the space.
I leaned back in my chair. “I didn’t hear about a car pile-up on the news.”
“Not yet? You must’ve missed it. Oh, it’s going to be on the news.” He undid another button and fanned his face. “Yeah. Something like that is definitely going to make the news.”
Melody stopped drawing and raised her paper. “Look!”
I checked out her drawing. “That’s lovely, Melody. What is it?”
“Balloons.”
“Oh, I love those balloons so much. Can you draw us more?”
“Sure, mommy.” Melody studied the small set of crayons and then grabbed the purple one. “These will be fairy balloons.”
“Good.” I snapped my attention back to my husband.
Why? So, you can float your cheating ass out of here?
I glared at him.
“Whew.” Blake scanned the restaurant some more. “Where the hell is she?”
“You never said the road where the accident was on?”
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
“We can talk more about this later.” Blake rose from the table. “I have to go to the bathroom. Just order for me, baby. You always know what I love. You’re such a good wife. I appreciate you.”
He rushed off.
I shook my head and looked at the TV. The show had begun. On the screen, several African slaves stood naked on an auction post. Chains gripped their necks and ankles. They shook in fear, not understanding what was going on.
I must do something. I don’t even have the stomach to get through this meal.
Melody grabbed my attention. “Should I make pink balloons too, Mommy?”