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
Too busy thinking about how terrified she must have been, Alex wasnt about to break in again. He pictured her wonder and delight over the snow, and then without warning, her terror in finding herself blinded by the wind and stinging flakes, lost and freezing. A thought suddenly occurred to him.
Were you hurt yesterday in any way?
No, Im fine.
You didnt fall or anything?
I did fall once, but Im not hurt.
Alex eyed her speculatively, wanting to believe her but afraid her fear was overruling her good sense. I think you might find that, as a doctor, Im really not so bad, he told her quietly.
Alex watched as Marcails face heated. It made the skin on her cheeks look as soft as rose petals, and even though Alex told himself he was embarrassing her, he could not drag his eyes away.
Could I have another cup of coffee? Marcail finally said in a small voice, all the while telling herself not to bite her lip.
Sure. The question was enough to tell Alex that even if she was hurt, he was not going to know about it. He turned toward the stove, and Marcail once again sat at the kitchen table.
If you like to read, I have a shelf full of books in the living room. Alex said as he filled her mug. I need to do a little baking, so please, make yourself at home.
Can I help with anything?
I dont think so, but Ill let you know.
Marcail wandered into the living room then, and even though the light was dim, she could see the titles. She selected a fat volume from the lower shelf and went back to the kitchen table.
Alex had to quell the impulse to turn and begin talking to her once again. She fascinated him, and he found that he couldnt hear enough of her voice, or watch too many of the expressions on her face when she talked. Alex worked in silence for about 20 minutes, mixing dough for bread, before Marcail spoke.
Where is the ulna?
Alex turned to her with a wide-eyed expression, but Marcail didnt notice. She was bent over one of his medical textbooks, studying it intently.
In your arm, he told her simply.
Where? Marcail finally looked at him.
Alex raised his right forearm, pinky side toward his curious houseguest, and then drew the fingers of his left hand down the outside of his forearm from wrist to elbow.
Its the bone right here on the little finger side of the forearm. Alex watched as Marcail inspected her own forearm and then went back to her reading.
Alex returned to his mixing bowl with a smile on his face. He found himself selfishly hoping it would continue to snow for daysanything to keep this precious girl close to him.