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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- eighteen
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- twenty-one
- twenty-two
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- 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
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- three
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- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
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- fourteen
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- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
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- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
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- 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
Because shes so pretty, the young girl spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as if this must be obvious to everyone.
Daisy went on her way, and Dean started to ask Alex a question but found him studying the picture Daisy had left on the table. For some reason the look on the younger mans face caused him to keep still.
Marcail dropped the last of her hairpins onto the table and shook her head carefully. She massaged her temples as her hair fell out of its braids in a mass of waves down her back and to her hips. She sank into the rocking chair and prayed that her headache would go away.
Until the last few weeks she had never worn her hair up for more than a few hours, and by the time church was over and shed eaten with the family of one of her students, her head was throbbing. She fingered a few strands and thought with regret over the way Allie had responded when she asked her to cut it. Allie had been more than willing until they had arrived in Allies bedroom and Marcail had taken her hair down.
I cant do it, Marcail.
What do you mean, you cant do it? Marcail had been truly dismayed.
I just cant, her friend spoke apologetically. I mean, I had no idea it was so long and beautiful. I just cant cut your hair.
Marcail had sighed. Who can I ask?
Allie shrugged. I could ask Mama, but Im sure shell say no.
Will you check with her anyway?
Allie had gone to her mother then, but just as she predicted, Mrs. Warren would not touch Marcails blue-black locks.
Marcail didnt know what to do. She had to wear her hair up in public, and there was nothing wrong with the school boards request. But Marcail was young, and Kaitlin had always encouraged her to pull her hair away from her face, letting the back hang free. Her hair curled naturally at the ends, so she never did anything but wash it and brush the tangles out.
Marcail let her head fall back against the back of the rocker. It was a depressing thought, but it looked as though she would have to wait until she was in Santa Rosa for Christmas. Then she would ask Kaitlin to cut her hair.
seven
On Monday morning, the children had just taken their seats when a large black carriage pulled up in front of the schoolhouse. Marcail, having heard the horses, moved to the door. She watched as a frail boy of approximately 11 years stepped down and moved toward the school. Marcail spotted Mrs. Duckworth in the dark interior and knew that at long last Sydney had arrived.