No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown) Read Online Free PDF

table. “We need you here. Every day. On time.”
    My mouth clamped shut as
Jerry exited the room. He had been so gracious about my shoeless foot. But
there was no mistaking the tone of his last words. He’d observed me coming in late
that particular morning and, perhaps, many more, thanks to my unpredictable
life with a baby and a four year old.
    The respect I had for Jerry
prevented me from snapping back with an excuse. Really, there was none. He
wasn’t threatening me or my job. He’d simply reminded me of where the bar
stood. If I wanted to stay viable in the workforce, I couldn’t play the Mommy
card anymore.

Chapter 4
     
    By Wednesday afternoon, my
foot had darkened around the toe. Stelson snuck a peek at me while I was
changing from the purple slipper to the pink, which matched my clothes. He
almost hit the roof. “We are not going to church tonight. I’m taking you
to see a doctor.”
    He called my father and asked
him to watch Seth while the rest of the family forged onward to an urgent care
clinic with my heroic husband at the helm. X-rays showed that my toe was broken.
Worse, they had to tape it to my next available toe so that it could heal
properly.
    “Otherwise, it could cause
you to end up needing surgery where they have to re-break the toe in order to
set it straight again,” the doctor informed us.
    Stelson, who was sitting on
the stool next to me, crossed his arms while Zoe slept in her portable car
seat. I avoided his glare, though his eyeballs were burning a hole in my cheek.
    I held my breath as the
fairly young physician gently pushed a piece of cotton between the two toes,
then taped them together for stability. The process was quick and relatively
painless, though nerve-racking.
    Moving forward, I asked the
doctor, “How long will it take to heal?”
    “Six weeks. Stay off your
feet as much as possible. Elevate and ice if it starts to swell again. You
should be back to yourself soon.”
    Now that’s what I
wanted to hear. With the good news, I was finally able to look at my husband.
“See, babe? I’m fine.”
    But on the way to my father’s
house, we got into yet another tiff. “This is silly, Shondra. You were too
preoccupied with work to take care of your own health.”
    “What? You want me to be a
hypochondriac?” I knew I was taking my side to the extreme, but for real, I’m
a grown woman. Shouldn’t I be able to make choices about when I want to
see a doctor?
    “It’s not just your foot.
It’s your life . You put your job before everything ,” he
overgeneralized, “and we’re only in summer school. What’s going to happen when
the regular session starts?”
    Since giving birth to Zoe in
January, I had been afforded some degree of luxury. I returned to work in May.
By then, the extremely disruptive students had already been worked through the
system and were matriculating at RightWay, or district’s alternative school.
Final exams were quiet time. And the last week, seniors were off campus, which
took care of a third of the disciplinary battles. Kids were skipping or
attending class out of dress code, but most of the teachers were too tired to
care enough to go through the referral process. When our test scores came back
with higher-than-expected results, the entire campus had gone on cruise control
until the last day.
    That said, Stelson had a point.
I was about to hit the ground full-speed in the next few weeks. Still. “You act
as though I’m the only working mother in the world. Wives balance home and work
every day, honey. Single moms have it even worse, but they’re doing it, too.”
    “True. Many women are doing
it. The question is, are they doing it well ?”
    I refused to incriminate
womankind. “I can’t speak for every mom who works outside the home.”
    “Just speak for yourself,
then.” He parked in my father’s driveway. Looked at me. “Do you believe you’re
going to be able to give the kids, our home, me, and even yourself your best
while