Free Where Rivers Part by Kellie Coates Gilbert Page B

her mother’s face turning pale gray as she lay crumpled at the base of the table, while her father heaved compressions at her chest. Her eyes—open and sightless. His—frantic and filled with fear.
    In her own—Juliet would never forget she was responsible.

 10 
    T he morning of the funeral dawned unusually blustery. Thick clouds, heavy with moisture, had rolled in the evening before, drifting up from a tropical storm in the gulf, while a cold front swept into central Texas from the west. Just as a hint of light showed up on the dark horizon, the two weather fronts collided and rain fell from the thunderous sky, as if heaven too might be overwrought with emotion.
    Juliet didn’t know what the angels had to cry about. The celestial beings should be rejoicing. They had her mother now.
    She did not.
    Despite the storm, cars crammed every space in the parking lots surrounding Talavera Community Church. Inside the door, strains from “Be Unto Your Name,” her mom’s favorite song, met people arriving, along with the scent of the floral bouquets spilling over the stage.
    Neighbors, fellow church members, and staff from New Beginnings filled every inch of seating in the sanctuary where Carol had worshiped each Sunday. Juliet’s mother lived in San Antonio for over thirty years, and it seemed every person she’d met was here to pay respects and bid a proper goodbye.
    When the service got under way, Juliet stared at her lap and torea tissue into tiny bits during the opening prayer, keenly aware her father sat next her.
    Were his hands trembling?
    First on the program were the musical selections, one by a young girl with an amazing voice and another sung by the youth choir. She knew the songs, the flowers, and the sympathetic looks were meant to comfort, but nothing about this formal service abated the pain she felt—the deep despair residing inside her soul. She wasn’t comforted at all. In fact, she was more agitated by the minute.
    What was the use of any of this, when the person you most loved and needed was no longer here?
    Finally, Pastor Roper made his way to the front.
    Juliet swallowed against the lump in her throat and stared ahead, trying to focus on the pastor and not on the shame building in her gut.
    â€œCarol Ryan was a woman who didn’t fear death,” he began. “She knew where she’d live once she departed from this world. Not because of her good deeds, although there were certainly many, but because Carol trusted in Jesus. She never doubted his promises because he’d already proven she could count on him.”
    Her mind shifted back to that night on the Riverwalk. By the time Juliet made her way back to the table, the vacant look in her mother’s eyes left no doubt her mother had already left her.
    Who could blame her?
    Juliet had acted like a spiteful prepubescent, stomping off in a fit. And now? Well, now she could never tell her mom she was sorry.
    Not now. Not ever.
    She watched the blue-suited pastor at the podium. His words echoed in her ears.
    â€œOnce, I overheard Carol counseling an unwed mother. The young girl was frightened, felt like she had nowhere to turn. She was out of options and dangerously close to making a decision she didn’t really want to make. Carol told that mother-to-be she’d foundthat when you go through the deepest waters, the Lord goes with you. But giving counsel wasn’t enough. Carol wrote the woman a generous personal check. Here at Talavera, we call that an example of Jesus with legs.”
    Pastor Roper gripped the edge of the podium and directed a quiet smile out over the audience. “That young woman is here with us today and serves as a board member of New Beginnings. Lord willing, she’ll carry on Carol’s vision to provide free resources to women who need help.”
    A woman sitting across the aisle lifted a handkerchief to her eyes.
    Why had Juliet never heard that story