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
It was a tremendous effort to leave the tub and dry off, but again Marcail moved slowly and got through it. She stood, nightgown in hand for some minutes, knowing that to lift it over her head was going to hurt. Holding the garment in front of her and feeling the cold of the room, she knew how warm she would be if she could just make the effort, but still she stood rooted.
Feeling weary in body and spirit, she would have continued to stand still, but the door opened quietly behind her. Marcail, wrapped in her own little world of pain and disillusionment, never heard the doors movement. As it was, only seconds passed before she heard Alexs horrified call. Forgetting for the moment the pain in her body, she turned to find him coming toward her, looking every inch the doctor she knew him to be.
forty-four
Marcail backed into the living room away from Alex until his hands on her upper arms brought her to a gentle stop. She was holding the nightgown to the front of her, as though it were a suit of armor.
Alex looked into her terrified eyes, knowing he had to do something that would probably destroy all the trust shed come to have in him.
Marcail, he spoke softly. I have to check your back.
Marcail shook her head and opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
I can tell, he went on in that same gentle voice, even from across the room, that your bruises are serious. I have to check them.
I told you Ive always bruised easily, Marcail finally blurted out, sounding as breathless and terrified as she really was.
Alexs heart broke, but there was no way he was going to ignore the coal-black bruises and scrapes hed seen on the back of her body.
With gentle insistency, his hands still holding her upper arms, he drew her back toward the kitchen where the lantern burned bright on the table. He turned her carefully toward the light, nearly changing his mind when he felt the violent trembling of her entire body.
Alex did not rush his examination, and had Marcail been capable of thinking clearly, she would have realized that his manner was completely professional. She felt his hand on her shoulder blade, the skin of her bottom, and the back of her thigh. It felt like forever, when in fact only a minute had passed before he was turning her so that her bare back was once again shielded from his eyes.
The light bounced off of the tears standing in her eyes, and Alex turned without leaving the room. He spoke over his shoulder.
Put on your nightgown, Marcail. His voice sounded sad, but nothing registered with Marcail beyond her pain and humiliation.