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
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- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
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- twenty-four
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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
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
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- fourteen
- fifteen
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- twenty-one
- twenty-two
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- twenty-six
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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
Marcails chin rose slightly as Mrs. Duckworths gaze met her own. The younger womans eyes were calm, and there was no sign of the groveling this tyrannical woman was usually afforded from the Willits townspeople.
Mrs. Duckworth found herself wondering how she could have admired the girls spunk on their first meeting. At the moment she found Marcails confidence quite rude. Were it not for Sydneys admiration of her, shed be tempted to give her the sack for such impertinence.
I wont keep you, Marcail said after a moment. Ill see you on Monday, Sydney. Good day, Mrs. Duckworth.
Marcail waved and went on her way. She wasnt long in town that day, and once she got home and began her laundry she found her mind straying back to Mrs. Duckworth. No one should have the godlike power that Mrs. Duckworth wielded. Of course, that was the problemno one was bold enough to tell her so.
Marcail realized with a start that she was bold enough, but knowing the people of Willits would suffer for her words stopped her in her tracks.
Marcail spent the day thinking about why, beyond her teaching position, God might have brought her to Willits. Often she was tempted to quit, but God always detained her with a gentle reminder that her example to the townspeople, her students, and especially Sydney might bring them to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.
sixteen
Marcails hand went to the back of her neck to rub at a sore spot. It was a cloudy Friday afternoon, and the children had been gone for about 15 minutes. From her place at the desk, Marcail glanced outside and stared for a moment.
It took some seconds to realize it was snowing. A few inches had already accumulated on the ground from the two different nights it had snowed, and for an instant Marcail thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Finally convinced that snow was falling, Marcail rose quickly from her desk and hurried toward the door. She pulled the school door shut behind her and stood for a moment, her face lifted toward the sky.
Marcail Donovan had never seen it snow. Having grown up in the tropics and then living in Santa Rosa, where it had snowed only twice and at night when they were all asleep, left her more than a little curious and excited about actually watching it snow.
In a near trance she walked down the steps with her hands spread wide to catch the white particles falling to the ground. Her tongue came out as she tried to taste a snowflake.