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
- 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
- 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
- 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
- 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 not taken time to grab her coat and was surprised at how warm it felt outside with only her sweater. Marcail began walking toward the trees that lined the road in the distance, loving the way the snow looked against the backdrop they formed. She entered a small copse of oaks and spent the next 20 minutes alternating between standing under their shelter and dashing out into the snow to make new tracks and feel the cold flakes on her face.
Marcail became aware of the cold about ten minutes too late. She wrapped her sweater a little more tightly about her and scolded herself for not taking her coat. The clouds had thickened and the wind had picked up suddenly, and as Marcail came back onto the road she realized that having the snow blowing in her face was no longer fun.
She squinted against the sting in her eyes and wondered how she could have been so foolish as to come this far from the school. She decided to make a run for it, and ran a good 30 yards before realizing she was going in the wrong direction. She turned back, but the wind caught her breath so suddenly that she decided to take refuge once again under the trees.
At what she assumed to be the edge of the road, Marcail tripped. She fell hard onto her face, her dress suddenly feeling very wet. Marcail began to shiver so severely she could hardly stand up. When she finally pushed off the ground, she was certain she was heading toward safety, but only a few steps told her she was guessing.
She pressed on, praying for help. Suddenly a dark object loomed before her. For an instant Marcail thought she had found the schoolhouse, but by then she didnt really care. Her only concern was to escape the freezing wind and somehow warm her icy limbs.
The exterior of the building was rough under her hands as Marcail felt her way around a corner. She nearly missed the odd latch on the wall before her. She fumbled for just a moment before the door slid open and the wind nearly blew her inside. Marcail gasped for every breath as she slid the door shut. She turned and leaned against the wall and then blinked in confusion. Dr. Montgomery was headed toward her with a lantern held high.
I got caught in the snow, Marcails voice shook as the doctor approached in disbelief.
Where is your coat? Alex asked, as he moved to the single window by the door and peered through the glass.
Marcail couldnt answer. Every part of her body was beginning to go numb, and all she could do was shake her head.
Lets get you to the house, Alex said, more to himself than anyone else. As he moved to hang the lantern, he heard Marcails softly spoken No.
Alex turned back and stared at her.