We Started Out As Friends

Chapter 3

When Fatima arrived the other ladies had already been seated and were engaged in chit-chat. Naomi's home, as usual, smelled sweet. When they were kids they regularly made excuses to go inside. They had to use the washroom, or they were hurt. Then they would start sniffing. "Hmm, I smell something," would always be the standard line.

Naomi would smile her knowing smile and say, "I wonder what it could be? Maybe it's window cleaner. I just did the windows."

"No, that's not it," the child would say.

"Maybe it's laundry soap? I did the laundry this morning."

"No, I think it's something to eat?" they would reply.

"Oh." Naomi would put her hand to her head as though the answer had just come to her. "Could it be this?" Then she would lift a cover from a dish to reveal her treat of the day. It might be cookies or cake or her special tarts.

Whatever it was they all loved them just as much as Naomi loved making them, but they knew Naomi got the greatest joy from seeing people eat her food. She was the same way now. As Fatima entered the house, the same familiar sweet aroma, coming from Naomi's kitchen, comforted her immediately.

"Ms. Naomi? It's Fatima."

"Come on in. We're all waiting for you," Naomi called from the upper level.

Fatima climbed the stairs from the small foyer to reach the living room. "Sorry I'm late." She kissed Naomi on the cheek and hugged her. She then took a seat beside Mama and turned to greet the other ladies.

There were three women in Naomi's living room. Sister Harrison, Sister Charles and Sister Barclay were all seated and ready to start the session. Sister Harrison, about 30 years old, was the church secretary and the mother of three small children. She was cute and perky with what Fatima liked to call a ski slope nose. She had her black hair cut in a chin length bob. She was the first to greet Fatima.

"Hi, just call me Susan."

Sister Charles was in her late 40's and very stern. It was said that when you got to know her she was the warmest, most generous person, as long as you made sure not to get on her wrong side. She ran all the children's programs, and was part of the visiting committee. She was said to have a firm but loving hand.

Sister Barclay was about 60 and very friendly, in a grandmotherly sort of way. Fatima knew her well. She was often in the neighbourhood visiting and taking Naomi to appointments when the rest of the family was not available. "Fatima, darling it's so good to see you again," Sister Barclay said.

"Thank you, Sister Barclay. It's good to see you too."

Sister Barclay looked at Naomi. "I noticed your lovely garden. I can't wait to see all the flowers come in. They were so beautiful last year. I was admiring the yard before I came in. Lilies are my absolute favourite. I just love them." She then turned to Fatima. "Naomi told me about the mystery gardener."

"Yes, that's my Ali," Naomi said with pride. "He planted everything just the way I told him to. Even though I can barely see, when the sun shines just right, I can see them." Naomi smoothed out her blouse over her trousers the way she usually did when she had finished making a point.

"We're expecting a few others, but we can get started. I know the ladies have a lot of questions. Maybe we can start by introducing ourselves. You all know me. I'm Naomi and I have three children. I live with Rachel, my youngest, and her two sons, the lights of my life, Joshua and Jonah. I arranged this meeting because the sisters in my ladies group have a keen interest and curiosity in the lives of Muslim women, and who better to ask than Muslim women."