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
As the evening progressed, Alex noticed that Marcail was more animated than hed ever seen her. He wondered how stressful it was for her to teach. On the other evenings theyd spent together, shed been communicative but not enthusiastic. He then pondered if her bubbly mood had anything to do with the lotion hed brought. He told himself with an inner smile that if this was the effect he could expect, hed bring her a different bottle every night.
Alex took a bath in his bedroom after supper. Marcail helped him heat the water, and then to give him as much privacy as she could she took herself off to the living room to a book she was reading. An hour later, when Alex was still behind closed doors, Marcail decided to get ready for bed, telling herself she could use the extra sleep.
Alex took an unusually long time with his bath that night, but not because he was overly dusty or wanted to put space between him and Marcail. Once away from Marcail, he found his mind trying to work through the puzzle of the change in her that night. His mind lingered on the fact that she hadnt taught school that day, but then he put that idea aside. Marcail never seemed beaten down or tired when he picked her up in the afternoon.
Alex dried off and sat on the edge of the bed. He let his mind see her as shed been when hed come home from workbent over the stove, looking adorable in that huge dress, her hair falling in thick waves down her back.
Her hair! Alex realized with a start. He jumped up, pulled on his pants, and opened the door as he slipped into his shirt.
Marcail, he called before rounding the corner into the living room.
Yes?
May I come into the living room? I need to ask you something.
Sure, Marcail answered from her place on the sofa. She was already in her nightgown and robe, but was sitting on the sofa with her Bible. She watched as Alex came in and sat beside her, even though the sofa was already made up for the night.
Alex had not carried his lantern from the bedroom, and Marcails was turned rather low. Alex reached and increased the flame before he spoke.
I need to ask you about your hair, Alex began, watching her face closely in the lamplight.
My hair?
Yes. Does it give you a headache to put your hair up? Alex came straight to the point, and Marcail blinked at him.
Yes it does, but how did you know that?
Because every other evening youve seemed to be upset about something or in some type of pain. And tonight you werent, so I figured either your job is very stressful or you get headaches from putting all of this on top of your head.