Charity Never Faileth

Three Relief Society sisters battle against an unholy monster in an activity gone sideways

“Sister Thomas, thank you so much.” Pam Jensen accepted the glass pan full of gently quivering green gelatin. Carrot shreds mocked her from the glistening depths.

Sister Thomas waved her hand. “I’d love to stay and help, Pam, but Jared and Omner have basketball practice and little Tiffany has her piano lessons and Sariah wants to be picked up at the high school in half an hour. You know how life is. Toodles!” Her designer sweats disappeared rapidly through the glass door of the church kitchen.

Pam sighed. Another lime gelatin salad. How many was that now? Twenty three? She set the pan on the counter next to the fridge. She wasn’t sure how many would actually fit in the fridge. She’d have to do some juggling.

“Sister Jensen? I hate to bother you, but . . .”

Pam stopped her eyes from rolling with a supreme effort of will at the sound of the breathy voice. She’d recognize it anywhere. But, charity suffereth long, and all that. She pasted a smile on her face as she turned around. “Yes, Sister Love?”

Nyra Love waddled to the cabinets, one hand spread across her extremely pregnant belly. “I just need a pitcher of water, you know, for the little ones, when they come.” She smiled her vapid smile, like a brain-damaged hamster. Her soft voice grated on Pam’s already stretched nerves. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no problem, Nyra. Are you sure you should be helping tonight? Wasn’t your baby due Sunday?”

Nyra Love giggled. “Oh, no. I was due last Thursday but the doctor says all first babies are late. It’s my responsibility to be here, it’s my calling, to serve in the nursery at Relief Society weekly enrichment meetings.” A frown crawled over her face. “What are we supposed to call them now?”

“Just call it a birthday dinner. Do you want help?” Pam wedged Sister Thomas’s gelatin offering into the fridge with the other green masses. All had carrots. A few sported pineapple tidbits or canned pears. Sour cream covered two with a thick layer of ‘frosting’.

Nyra pressed her hand to her belly. “Oh, that was a strong one. Nothing to worry about, Sister Jensen. It’s only Braxton-Hicks.” She waddled from the room, a plastic pitcher clutched in her free hand.

Pam shook her head as she began arranging fresh fruit. Rainbows sounded fun, especially for March. Blueberries, kiwi, pineapple, mandarin oranges because they were easier than orange slices, with a border of strawberries. But that left out violet. What fruit could she add this late, though? It would mean yet another trip to the store. She eyed the carefully carved pineapple boats sitting empty next to the trays. Maybe she should just mix it all and fill up the boats. A faint gurgle across the kitchen caught her attention. She paused, glancing over the simmering crockpots of ham. “Must have been the lids rattling.” She popped open a container of strawberries. If she mixed it all up, the sisters would never notice purple missing and if they did, well, that was their problem. Boats with mixed fruit it would be. And maybe one tray with a rainbow, for fun.