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
Fine, the young boy answered, his sullen tone telling Marcail he was anything but. The young school teacher sighed mentally. On the days when Sydney was boisterous and unruly, Marcail knew where she stood. When he was withdrawn and uncommunicative, as he was now, he frightened her.
She knew there was no point questioning him when he behaved like this, so Marcail went back to the paper in front of her, thanking God the week was over and praying the day would be better than she hoped.
The morning progressed fairly smoothly, but Marcails prayerful heart was never far from the unpredictable Sydney. The other children seemed to take their cue from him; they were quiet as well.
Marcail dropped into her chair at lunch as though shed worked two days without a rest. Shed just reached for her lunch tin when Alex entered. It was a pleasant surprise. Marcail felt like she was seeing the first friendly face all day.
Hi, Alex spoke as soon as he sat down. He thought she looked tired, which wasnt like her, and it concerned him. It also made the reason for his visit more difficult.
Hello, Marcail smiled at him, unaware of the way her fatigue showed.
I cant stay, he began, but I wanted to let you know I wont be by after school. Ive got to head out to the Castleton place, and I wont be back until evening.
I dont mind the walk, Marcail told him honestly, thinking it would give her a chance to clear her head and time to pray.
All right, Alex said, still hating the idea. Ill see you as soon as I can.
Marcail walked him to the door and then went back to her lunch.
The afternoon was a waste of time. The children went from being obediently quiet to continuously talking out of turn, and Marcail let them go nearly 45 minutes early. It was cool but more than comfortable, and she felt that the students who normally had rides could use the exercise.
Marcail straightened the room and worked at her own desk for over an hour before gathering her books and slipping into her coat. Once outside, she closed the door behind her and moved unsuspectingly toward the steps. Her foot never reached the first step. It caught on a string that had been tightly drawn across the top.
Marcails books flew through the air. Her hands went out to grasp for the railing and encountered only thin air. In an attempt to right herself, she turned partially with her back to the steps.