Chapters (241)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Whatever Tomorrow Brings
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families1871
- one
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- thirty-six
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- forty
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- fifty-three
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- 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
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- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
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- fourteen
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- sixteen
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- twenty-one
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- thirty-one
- thirty-two
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- 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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- five
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- thirty-one
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- 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
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- twenty
- twenty-one
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- twenty-three
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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
- epilogue
- Books by Lori Wick
- About the Author
Shame nearly overwhelmed her as she pulled the bodice of her dress down and remembered his unbuttoning the back. It took some minutes, but eventually Marcail had a pile of damp clothes on the floor and a white flannel nightgown in her hands. She was trembling so violently that she could barely lift it over her head. Once she did, she found herself enveloped in cloth. The nightgown was huge on her slight frame.
Miss Donovan, Alexs voice called through the door.
Yes?
Are you dressed?
Marcails answer was to open the door. Alex barely glanced at her attire before he placed a hand on her back and led her to the large upholstered chair that hed drawn up in front of the stove. Before he gave Marcail a small push into the chair he wrapped her in a thick quilt.
In her frozen misery, Marcail was unaware of the way Alex retrieved her clothing, hung it to dry, and then fetched a mug and the pot from the stove.
We have to get you warm, Miss Donovan was all she heard before Alex bent over her with a steaming cup. He placed it against her mouth with one order.
Drink.
Marcail did so, only to bury her face in the quilt a moment later in an attempt to evade the cup, as well as breathe past the acrid taste in her throat. He had given her the strongest coffee shed ever tasted.
Alex tried to get her to drink more of the thick liquid, knowing how quickly it would warm her, but the sound of her small, choked voice begging him to stop was too much for him. He put the cup aside.
After Alex reached to put the mug on the table, he then shifted Marcail in the chair, moving her as though she were a doll so he would be certain every part of her was warm. He made sure her arms and shoulders were tucked into the quilt and then tugged one corner of the quilt up over her head until only her face showed. He pulled another chair close, sat down to face her, placed her feet in his lap, and wrapped yet another quilt around them.
Marcail looked at him through eyes that were beginning to blur, wishing he would go away. Her last thought before her body began to warm and sleep came to claim her was that this couldnt really be happening to her.
seventeen