Chapters (241)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Whatever Tomorrow Brings
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families1871
- one
- two
- three
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- five
- six
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- eight
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- thirty
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- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
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- forty
- forty-one
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- fifty
- fifty-one
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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
- thirteen
- fourteen
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- thirty-one
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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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- 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
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- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
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- 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
Marcail nodded, trying to convince herself of his words. Are you not at all bothered about going this morning? For some reason she had to know.
Not for myself, Alex told her simply.
His real thoughts, thoughts of protecting her no matter what, stayed quiet within him. He knew that if anyone so much as looked at her cross-eyed, hed champion her like a mother with a hurting child.
Alex rose from the table to start breakfast, all the time wondering if anyone in town knew what a sacrifice shed made. She had been threatened, humiliated, frightened, rejected, and nearly forced into marriage so she could stay in town, teach the children, and possibly tell someone of Christs love.
Alex didnt for one instant fault her motives or feel used. In fact, he agreed with her and praised God that she consented to marry him. But part of him wanted people to praise her, to understand her commitment and love for the children, and to put her on a pedestal because of it.
Then Alexs thoughts went to Jesus Christ and His life on earth. No man was more misunderstood, no man had suffered more humiliation and rejection than He had. The pedestal He was put upon was a cross, to die for sins He could not possibly have committed.
Alex glanced back at the table to where Marcail still sat. Shed retrieved her Bible and sat reading quietly. He might be able to share his thoughts with her someday, but for now, he prayed. He knew God would show her in His special way that shed done the right thing, and that He was going to honor her obedience.
By the time church was over, Marcail was convinced that rejection would have been easier to take than everyones self-satisfied looks over their belief that she was no longer a fallen woman. It was enough to make Marcails blood boil, and she tried hard to keep her emotions in check.
They were eating lunch at Austins when Kay noticed Marcail was about to explode. Intending to give Marcail and Alex some time alone, she sent the girls on an errand after the meal.
Talk to me, Marcail, Alex said as soon as hed shut the parlor door.
Two women I dont even know actually offered to have the party at their house when our baby is born!
Alex was not at all surprised. Hed tried to keep her at his side as much as possible, but it seemed the people at church were determined to separate them.
Honestly! Marcail continued. It was almost easier to take the cold shoulders I received last week than those ridiculous, speculative glances on the faces of certain people.
He was silent as he watched her flushed face. Marcail stood shaking in the middle of the room, her arms crossed over her chest and one small-booted foot tapping an angry tattoo on the rug.