The Barefoot Believers Read Online Free PDF Page A

weeks.”
    â€œAnd suffer so much damage that you might cut your career short by a few years? Not to mention the effect of not taking care of yourself and your general health and…” she paused to pointedly clear her throat “…well-being. Doesn’t the Bible say something about physician heal thyself?”
    â€œI refuse to take any guff from you on making choices that I should know better than to make.” Kate raised her head and narrowed her eyes at the sleek white, impersonal building before them. “Realtors who live in rented apartments and all that.”
    Yes, the thirty-five-year-old fireball, noted as one of the city’s “Realtors To Watch” in a sidebar for an article on the boom market in Southern City Lifestyles, did not actually own her own home. She had bought and flipped several houses and condos in the last four years but she had never lived in any of them. She’d find something she thought would make her happy, move in, paint, wallpaper, remodel, whatever it took, and the next thing she knew, she looked around her and realized she wasn’t happy. So she’d go on the prowl again for a home, a haven, a…a…a…
    It would help if she had any idea what it was she was really looking for. But to do that, she’d have to slow down long enough to examine her life and figure out what was missing.
    â€œAre we going to hang out in your parking lot all day or are we going to actually make some use of this ritzy, three-hundred-dollar-shoe equivalent of an apartment of yours?”
    Slow down? Examine her life? Like that was going to happen anytime soon!
    â€œDon’t pick on that apartment too much. It’s going to be your headquarters for the next few weeks.” She took a few steps backward, guiding her sister one hobble at a time. “Months if you know what’s good for you.”
    â€œAgain. Not taking guff from you on pushing myself too hard.” Kate made it up the walk, using the cane and sheer willpower.
    Before Jo could launch an argument, or even come up with one, her cell phone bleated out the opening notes of the old Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young song, “Our House.” Luckily it did not blare out the lyrics that spoke of finding love and home. Apropos, Jo had thought, to her work. Yet so ironic to her personal life.
    But irony was not what made Jo wince at her insistent ring tone.
    â€œIf you want to get that call, I can manage on my own.” Kate took a step toward the sleek brass-and-glass door and winced.
    â€œIf it’s important they can leave a message.” Jo swept in and placed her hand on her sister’s back more to provide a place to fall than to take control.
    â€œYou’re a good sister.”
    Jo only felt a twinge of guilt that she let Kate think family love had motivated her refusing to answer the phone. While she had no idea, without checking, who might be on the other end of that call and what they would want from her, she did know it wouldn’t be good. And unlike her sister, she would have no one to hold her up when the time came for her to take a fall.
    Love. Fear. Guilt. At least she was acting out of some emotion and not just a blind sense of duty, right?
    They made their way through the lobby and into the elevator. Then down the hallway…At least, Jo made it down the hallway.
    Kate hung back, leaning on her cane and breathing hard.
    â€œI should have rented a wheelchair,” Jo said, even as she pulled her keys from her purse. “Let me unlock the door then I’ll come back and get you.”
    â€œI am not helpless,” Kate snapped, her usually friendly features lined with pain. She slumped against the wall for support.
    Jo rushed to her. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be out of the hospital?”
    â€œSo sayeth the insurance company,” Kate joked.
    â€œAnd your doctor?”
    â€œI am a doctor.” Kate grimaced.
    â€œTruth,