Stand by Me by Neta Jackson Page A

To her surprise, the student visitors set out a neat veggie tray—the kind grocery stores make up in the deli—and a plastic tub of sour cream dip. And the “Cat” girl unzipped her backpack and set out several six-packs of fruit-juice blends, which were immediately snapped up by the younger set.
    Well, at least they were pulling their share.
    Once the stacks of paper plates, plasticware, and Styrofoam cups arrived, Pastor Cobbs boomed a prayer of thanks over the food, including his standard, “. . . and remove all impurities from the food we are about to partake . . . Amen!”
    As usual, the kids jostled each other to be first in line, until Florida Hickman swooped down on them like an eagle after its prey. “You kids! Where’s you manners? Let the parents with little kids go first—an’ the pastors an’ elders and they spouses. And if you’re a visitor to SouledOut, come on now, get in line. These kids can wait.”
    Avis would have just as soon held back a bit, but with Florida directing traffic, she and Peter got their food and found seats at a long table with Debra and Sherman Meeks and Jodi and Denny Baxter. Peter, Denny, and Debra, along with David Brown, were the current elder board, each serving a staggered two-year term. Peter had just been elected at the beginning of the year, and she was proud of him serving in that capacity.
    But a disturbing thought flickered across her mind, even as the table talk bounced from bemoaning the Chicago Bulls’ losing season to whether the economy would ever recover. How can Peter think about taking an extended trip when he’s just agreed to serve a two-year term as an elder? She shook her head. She and Peter were just dancing around this issue. They really needed to talk—
    â€œOkay if we sit here?”
    Avis blinked. Two of the Crista students—the “Cat” girl and the timid blonde—stood by two empty chairs across the table, holding their plates of food hopefully.

Chapter 11
    O f course!” Sherman Meeks jumped up and even pulled out the chairs for the two young women. “By all means. We need some youth at this table of old folks.”
    â€œSpeak for yourself, Meeks.” Denny Baxter feigned a wounded look. “A few of us here aren’t over the hill yet .”
    â€œDon’t mind him.” Jodi extended her hand. “I’m Jodi Baxter. This is my husband, Denny. And please remind us of your names . . . ?”
    â€œKathryn Davies.” The talkative girl beamed and shook Jodi’s hand. “Though most people just call me Kat. Kat with a K. And this is Olivia Lindberg. We’re both from Crista University. I’m in the graduate school. Education.”
    â€œUndergrad,” squeaked the younger of the two. “Sociology.”
    â€œWould you like something to drink?” Denny offered. Neither girl had a cup. “I’d be glad to get you some lemonade. They’ve made enough to float a Carnival cruise.”
    Kat— With a K , Avis reminded herself—shook her head. “Uh, no, unless there’s something else besides Styrofoam cups.”
    The three couples just looked at her.
    Olivia spoke up. “Kat doesn’t do Styrofoam. Bad for the environment, you know. But . . . I’d love some lemonade. Thanks.”
    â€œO- kay .” Denny smothered an amused smile and disappeared toward the kitchen.
    â€œMrs. Douglass, right?” Kat smiled at Avis, crunching on a raw baby carrot. Avis noticed that the girl hadn’t taken any fried chicken, only beans and rice and the macaroni and cheese. “You were the worship leader last week. I was hoping you would lead worship again this Sunday. Did the guy today sub for you because it’s Mother’s Day? Or is there a rotation?”
    Girl , Avis thought, if you stick around awhile and observe, you’ll learn the answers without having to ask so many questions .
    Peter