Free Where Rivers Part by Kellie Coates Gilbert Page A

mother smiled at him. “I ordered the enchilada plate for you.”
    â€œWith extra green sauce?”
    She nodded. “Yes, with extra sauce.”
    He turned to Juliet. “Now, that’s why your mama’s a keeper.”
    Juliet gave him a weak smile, stifling a comment that in her opinion, he was lucky her mom kept him around.
    Her father rustled a chip from the basket and dredged it through the bowl of salsa like he was trying to drown the thing. Her mother wet her fingers and tamed a strand of his hair.
    He turned to Juliet. “So, did you hear about it?”
    â€œAbout?” She played dumb, stubbornly refusing to play along.
    He talked while he chewed. “The outbreak. Sorry situation if you ask me.” He swore under his breath. “Today’s corporations. Always cutting corners when it comes to safety.”
    â€œBennett—language.”
    Juliet’s father shrugged. “Sorry, Carol. But Juliet’s hardly a little girl—”
    â€œThat’s not what I’m talking about,” her mother chided. “You know I don’t care for foul language.”
    He slipped his hand over hers in a signaled apology.
    Juliet reached for her glass of iced tea. “Why are you pinning the outbreak on some corporation? Could be a public pool for all we know, run by a municipality. Here in Texas, there were three reported cases just like that last year.”
    â€œNot likely.” He popped another chip in his mouth and chewed noisily.
    Juliet’s mother held up both hands. “Look, you two, let’s change the subject.”
    Juliet ignored her mom’s admonition and pierced her father with a sharp glare. “What do you mean, not likely?”
    Her father slowly leaned back in his chair. He lifted his eyebrows. “Surely you’re not unaware that statistics show—”
    Juliet threw her linen napkin to the table. “Oh, c’mon. Get over yourself, Dad. The laboratories in corporations across this country employ state-of-the-art mechanisms to detect even a hint of pathogens.”
    Her father smirked. “Yeah, so they don’t get sued.”
    â€œOh, here we go.” Juliet grabbed her purse. “Look, Mom. I’m too tired for this tonight.”
    Her mother’s arm reached across the table. “Honey, wait—”
    Juliet shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind, and it’s just better if I head out.” She ignored the tears pooling in her mother’s eyes. “Just have them box my dinner. You can eat itfor lunch tomorrow.” She glanced over at her father as she moved to kiss her mother’s cheek.
    â€œCarol, honey. I’m sorry.” He too reached for Juliet, remorse clearly written on his face. “I’m sorry. Juliet, please stay.”
    Juliet lifted her chin and pulled her hand away. “Call me tomorrow, Mom.” She turned and scurried away, brushing past the growing crowd mingling down the sidewalk path lining the river.
    She’d walked about a quarter of a block when in the distance, she heard screams over the sound of the mariachi band playing on a nearby veranda.
    The music stopped. Juliet froze.
    â€œSomeone call 911!”
    She turned back toward the commotion.
    Her father’s voice rang out. “Carol!” he screamed. “Hurry, somebody! I need a doctor!”
    Looking back, Juliet marveled at how everything raced and slowed at the same time. She knew she’d dropped her purse and ran back, her feet pounding the sidewalk like a drum. Her mind simultaneously blurred and absorbed details—clumps of variegated green hostas and lacey ferns sprouting from the edge of shimmering water that reflected the hanging lights overhead. Chattering tourists sitting in a boat floating by, and the mingled smells of grilled meat and onion drifting from the open-doored restaurants.
    But the single sight she would never forget was that of