Chapters (241)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Whatever Tomorrow Brings
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families1871
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- epilogue
- Dedication
- The Taylor and Donovan Families—1871
- Prologue
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- epilogue
- Sean Donovan
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Visalia and Santa Rosa Families—1876
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- Epilogue
- Dedication
- Willits and Santa Rosa Families—1881
- Dear Marcail
- prologue
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- epilogue
- Books by Lori Wick
- About the Author
Since it seems you cannot handle honest confrontation, I assume youll now be searching for another teacher for this fall. Should you decide that you do in fact need my services for another term, I will teach on my own conditions. You have until the first day of August to inform me of your decision, and to discuss revisions on my contract.
Marcail turned toward the door but stopped at the sound of Alexs voice.
There is one condition I will change on Marcails contract should she return in August. She will dress and wear her hair in a manner pleasing to her husband and not the Willits school board.
Alex and Marcail exited then, leaving a silent Cordelia in their wake. Alex treated Marcail to lunch at the hotel before dropping her off at home and telling her hed see her at supper.
Marcail prayed the afternoon away, knowing shed done what was necessary, but feeling she may have burned her bridges behind her.
fifty-six
Marcails spirits were a bit low in the days following her confrontation with Cordelia, but Alex proved to be a source of great encouragement. He felt shed handled herself and the situation very well and told her so on several occasions.
They had talked in detail that evening and then prayed together about the future. Other than mealtime prayers, it was the first time theyd prayed as a couple. When they were finished, Marcail felt closer to Alex than ever before.
Marcails new interest in Alexs work was also bringing them closer together. She found that she enjoyed accompanying him when he made housecalls, the first of which was to the Brents.
Mrs. Brent, Alex told her as they neared the house, was a woman in her sixties, whose frail, sickly body had never dulled her wit or the sharpness of her tongue. Marcail smiled at his description as she took in the neighborhood. The houses on this street were set farther apart than some, but were all quite small. Some of the homes were in disrepair, but most were well kept and welcoming.
The Brent home was one of the loveliest on the street. With yellow paint, white shutters, and a white picket fence along the front yard, the house was very well maintained. Alex held the gate for Marcails entrance and then followed her up the path to the front door.
The door was opened by a woman in her mid-forties. Her name was Freda, and she was Mrs. Brents spinster daughter. Freda looked very pleased at their arrival, and once inside she spoke in low tones to the doctor.
How is she today? Alex wanted to know.
The same; certain that youre coming to cure her every ill. She
Freda! A strident voice cut into Fredas sentence. Who are you talking to?