Chapters (241)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Whatever Tomorrow Brings
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families1871
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
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- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- fifty-two
- fifty-three
- fifty-four
- fifty-five
- fifty-six
- fifty-seven
- fifty-eight
- fifty-nine
- sixty
- sixty-one
- epilogue
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families—1871
- Prologue
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- epilogue
- Sean Donovan
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Visalia and Santa Rosa Families—1876
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
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- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
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- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Dedication
- Willits and Santa Rosa Families—1881
- Dear Marcail
- prologue
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- fifty-two
- fifty-three
- fifty-four
- fifty-five
- fifty-six
- fifty-seven
- fifty-eight
- fifty-nine
- sixty
- epilogue
- Books by Lori Wick
- About the Author
She had stood and watched Sean pound iron into horseshoes and then those same hands, as gentle as those of a nurse, slid tenderly along her bruised jaw.
And again, when she had nearly fallen in the general store, he had grasped her arm ever so lightly, but with enough strength to let her know she wouldnt fall.
It had taken until the next day for Charlie to find out that Sean had only thrown one punch before Murphy hit the floor. And then those same hands, lightly clutching his napkin, had paused to pray before eating.
Prayer. Sean was the only adult Charlie knew who actually prayed. She thought such petitions were for children before they figured out that no one was there listening. Charlie had prayed until she was 12. She had asked God every night to give her a pony of her own and to make her grandfather stop hitting her. But there was no one up there, so naturally her prayers went unanswered.
Sean however, believed in Someone. Charlie could see that. He didnt seem to be the type of man who prayed without belief. But what type of man was he? The question plagued Charlie until she fell into a fitful sleep. In the morning she wished shed taken Sean up on his offer to do the chores.
eighteen
Sean wore the still-new pants and shirt on Sunday morning. The shirt was a blue-and-white check, and the pants were a heavy denim. Freshly shaved and with his hair brushed into place, Sean cut a handsome figure.
The moment he opened his bedroom door, he could hear Charlie moving around the kitchen preparing breakfast. He wondered if his wife was thankful that even though she could cook, she had the means to have lunch and supper delivered after shed worked all day.
Seans thoughts moved to May Taylor, his sister Kaitlins mother-in-law. She was a woman who for years worked all day in Santa Rosas shipping office and then went home to prepare supper for her family. Of course her sons were helpful, but it had to take some of the edge off ones appetite to be so tired when eating.
Good morning, Sean greeted Charlie as he stepped into the room.
Morning, she answered, and Sean thought she sounded like she was getting a cold.
How are you this morning?
Fine.
Sean doubted that, but was hesitant to press her. He thought of another tack.
Why dont you let me finish breakfast? Charlie stopped, a cracked egg poised over her bowl, and stared at him. Sean continued, Youve already done the chores, and I havent done a thing today, so
You can cook?
Sure. My brother-in-law taught me.
Charlie turned fully away from the bowl now. You have family?
Yes, I do, Sean spoke as he stepped forward and rescued the dripping egg from her hand. A father, two sisters, a brother-in-law and two nieces, last I knew.
Do they know about Charlie hesitated.