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
Her momentum was too great though, and the change in position didnt help. She ended up falling very hard, most of her weight going onto one side of her back. Marcail gasped for breath after the initial impact. Pain ran from the back of her head to the back of her right thigh. She lay still for long moments, breathing hard with pain and trying to determine if anything was broken.
Marcail didnt realize she was shaking all over until she tried to stand. For the first time since shed moved to Willits, she wished the schoolhouse was more centrally located. After some effort, Marcail found herself on her hands and knees looking up at the steps above her, and to the thin string tied tautly across the top.
The ache inside of her was more painful than any of her bruises. This had been a deliberate and malicious act. Marcail was absolutely crushed. More from lack of will than from pain, Marcail collected her books with an effort and removed the string, slipping it into the pocket of her coat.
The walk home was accomplished without real thought to where she was going or how fast. She didnt touch the stove or start supper when she arrived, but slipped out of her coat and decided to lie down. She removed her shoes and lowered herself gingerly onto the sofa, careful of her bruises as she pulled a blanket over her.
She told herself she was just going to sleep for a few minutes, but even though her back throbbed, her body had other ideas. Sleep overcame her quickly, blissfully wiping away the steps, the string, and the troubled face of one little boy from her mind.
forty-three
Marcail woke to a feeling of pressure on her hand. She focused slowly to find Alex kneeling down by the sofa, holding her hand. Her whole body ached like a bad tooth, but she didnt say a word.
I know you like to sleep in on Saturday mornings, her husbands voice was soft, but you were out so hard when I came home last night, I thought I should wake you and let you know Im leaving for work.
Its Saturday morning?
It sure is. You must have stretched out right here after you got home. Alexs voice was compassionate, and his fingers stroked down her cheek and then touched the collar of her dress.
Marcail wanted to sit up, but didnt think she could manage it. Im sorry I didnt get you any supper last night, she apologized, not really thinking clearly.
I didnt wake you to make you feel bad. Im fine, and I just hope you caught up on some of your rest. Alex stood then. Im off to work. I probably wont be home for lunch, but I should be done for the day around 2:00. Theres hot coffee on the stove when you get that far.