Two days later, Naomi drove her buggy over to Rachel’s. When Rachel opened the door to the knock, she saw that Naomi was carrying a large bag.
“I heard you were out of the hospital,” Naomi said. “Are you feeling better?”
Rachel shrugged. She was no longer in pain, but better? Not really.
“I brought you something.” Naomi pulled a pot out of the bag. “It is your favorite—my chicken noodle soup. It is still warm. May I put it in the kitchen?”
“Of course.”
Rachel did not follow her friend into the kitchen. Luke’s words the night of the kidnapping about her and her son still stung. She hoped Naomi did not intend to stay long.
“Thank you,” Rachel said, when Naomi finished her small errand and came back into the living room. “I’m sure Joe and Bobby will appreciate it.”
Rachel did not offer Naomi a seat. There was a stiff politeness between them. The easy friendship they had once enjoyed was gone.
“How is Bobby?” Naomi asked.
“He’s fine. How is Ezra?”
“He misses Bobby.”
Rachel said nothing. Bobby would not be going to their home. He was not wanted.
Naomi sighed. “Luke said bitter and angry things the night the boys were stolen. I know he hurt you, but he was speaking from pain and weakness and frustration over his inability to protect our son. He needed to blame someone for what had happened, and harsh words came out of his mouth.”
“He was just saying what he felt, Naomi,” Rachel said. “I don’t blame him for that.”
“I want you to know that Bobby has never been a bad influence on our Ezra. Ever. Quite the opposite. Luke’s illness has been hard on our son. It has turned him into a worried child, much too quiet and careful—except when Bobby comes over. Your son is boisterous and bright and he takes Ezra’s mind off his father’s illness. When Bobby is there, Ezra plays like a little boy should play.”
“I wish you would have said all that at the time,” Rachel said. “It was hard to hear my son criticized at a time when I didn’t know if I would ever see him again.”
“You have lived among us long enough to know that a good Amish wife never criticizes or corrects her husband in front of others, Rachel.”
“True.”
“Luke asked me to tell you that he is sorry and to thank you for all you did. He also wanted me to ask whether Bobby could come over soon to play with Ezra.”
Rachel had nothing to say to that. Apologies were all well and good, but Luke had meant what he said that terrible night. She had no intention of allowing Bobby to go there anytime soon.
“Ezra speaks of nothing else except how brave your son was. And how unafraid Bobby was in standing up to the man and woman who took them. He will be devastated if he cannot have his friend come to play.”
“I’m just not comfortable with it, Naomi. I’m sorry.”
“I understand.” Naomi reached into the bag she had brought and pulled out an old quilt. “Do you remember this?”
“It’s the one your grandmother made for you before you were born.”
“Do you remember when we got the mumps at the same time?” Naomi said. “Bertha offered to nurse both of us through it. My mother had a houseful of children and didn’t argue. When my mother packed my things, she put my favorite quilt in as well. You and I lay in the bed together beneath that quilt. We were feverish and miserable, but your aunt took good care of us.”
“Bertha was a wonderful nurse.” Rachel wished Naomi would make her point and go. She had been through too much the past few days.
“When we started getting better,” Naomi continued, “you said it was because of the quilt. You said my grandmother had made a magic quilt that could heal people.”
Rachel smiled. That was a lifetime ago, when she and Naomi were little girls and as close as sisters.
“It has been mended many times,” Naomi continued. She stroked the faded blue-and-white fabric she held in her arms. “As battered as it is, it is still my favorite. When I am ill or sad, I curl up beneath it and pretend that it is a medicinal quilt. I pretend that it can heal people’s bodies and minds. It’s a childish thing for a grown woman to do, of course. I’ve never told anybody else.”
Rachel reached over and fingered the old quilt stitched so carefully by Naomi’s loving grandmother. “Your grandmother put a lot of love into this quilt. I’m sure that alone gives it some healing qualities.”
“I’m so glad you said that. Here.” She placed the folded quilt in Rachel’s arms. “I want you to have it. It is a gift.”
“I can’t take this.”
“Please. I was praying it might heal our friendship.”
Rachel held the quilt against her heart that ached so badly. “I lost the baby, Naomi.”
“I know.” Tears threatened to spill from her friend’s kind blue eyes. “I am so sorry. I came here hoping it would help you to talk about it.”
“Let’s sit,” Rachel said. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Rachel went over to the couch, put her stocking feet on the coffee table, and pulled the quilt over her. It did feel comforting.
Naomi seemed unsure of where to sit.
Rachel lifted one side of the quilt. “I’ll share.”
“Oh! I would very much like to share!” Naomi came over, sat close to Rachel, and pulled part of the quilt over herself. Then she toed off her shoes and put her stocking feet on the coffee table beside Rachel’s.
“Joe and I are going to have a funeral for the baby tomorrow,” Rachel said. “It hurts so badly, Naomi.”
“And all this pain and loss because of Luke’s behavior when he was young and foolish, and the bad things that came of it. I’m so sorry, Rachel.”
“I know,” Rachel said. “So am I.”
With their shoulders touching and the old, soft quilt pulled up to their chins, the healing between the women began.