Chapters (241)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Whatever Tomorrow Brings
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families1871
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- sixty
- sixty-one
- epilogue
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families—1871
- Prologue
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- epilogue
- Sean Donovan
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Visalia and Santa Rosa Families—1876
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- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Dedication
- Willits and Santa Rosa Families—1881
- Dear Marcail
- prologue
- one
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- sixty
- epilogue
- Books by Lori Wick
- About the Author
Sean, its me, she said as she opened the door. Can I borrow your Bible? Sean nodded toward the nightstand that was lit by an oil lamp. Kate lowered herself to the edge of Seans bed where he lay looking at the shadows on the high ceiling.
He heard the rustle of pages for a few minutes and then silence. He broke it with words spoken in a whisper, Read it to me, Katie.
Luke 22:39-42: And he came out, and went, as he was wont, to the Mount of Olives; and his disciples also followed him. And when he was at the place, he said unto them, Pray that ye enter not into temptation. And he was withdrawn from them about a stones cast, and kneeled down, and prayed, Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.
Kate turned slightly on the bed to see her brother. His eyes were filled with tears.
Shes really going to die, isnt she Kate?
Kate could only nod and hold the hand that her brother thrust toward her. They stayed together on the bed for a long time, neither one speaking, and both trying to understand their mothers illness and the thought of life without her.
nine
The day after Theresa made her stern speech to the family and told Marcail of the illness, the entire clan set off to see San Francisco in Aunt Maureens open buggy. The morning fog had burned off and, with the sun climbing into the sky, Maureen gave everyone a grand tour of the city.
They drove past mansions with balconies, widows walks, columned porches, and towers. A few houses sported windows with beautiful stained glass. Every imaginable style of architecture could be found. The children gaped in awe at the sizes as well as the variations in color. It became very apparent as the day wore on that their aunts home, grand as it was, was not the biggest nor the finest San Francisco had to offer.
They sat for a time at the shores of San Francisco Bay and looked across the water to Alcatraz Island. The prison on the island had been holding prisoners from the early 1860s, so Maureen informed everyone.
They finished their morning with Aunt Maureen treating them to lunch at one of the fine downtown hotels.
The coming weeks brought on a pattern of sorts. Most mornings the family would go on an outing and return home for lunch. Theresa spent the afternoons resting or writing letters. Even though she was taking it easy, she was growing worse. Almost daily now she would find blood on her handkerchief, and, try as she might to hide it, the whole family was aware of it.