Read When Tomorrow Comes for Free Online Page A

the next room. Evidently she had finished her long soak in the tub and would soon be coming out. Christine took a deep breath to help calm her churning feelings and questions. She hoped her face would not give her away. The evening would not be pleasant for either of them if she didn’t get herself in hand.
    She went to the window and swept back the heavy drapery. The night looked still and cold. Few hurried along the sidewalks. The scene brought no comfort. It was as barren and cold as her own heart felt right now. Somehow . . . somehow she had to find her way and some sense of what was taking place in the world. But for the moment, it made no sense at all.

CHAPTER
F our
    When they caught the train to Calgary the next morning, Christine thought she had never seen her mother so excited. Elizabeth chatted on and on about Jon and Mary and her time with them when she first came west to teach. She reminisced about each of their children—William, Sarah, Kathleen, and Lizbeth—recalling cute childish sayings and funny anecdotes. Christine wondered if her mother would be terribly disappointed to see her beloved children now as young adults.
    As winter mornings go, it was a pleasant one with the sun reflected off the drifts of new snow, causing an intriguing play of shadows and light. Pristine fields stretched for miles, inviting someone—something—to be the first to string a thread of beaded track across the expanse. The distant hills rose in the crisp morning air, their tall pines like frosty sentinels against the blueness of the sky.
    Christine found it hard to pull her eyes from the view rushing by the window. Even her mother’s voice served not to distract her but rather to lay a background for the mood the scene evoked. The troubled thoughts about her future from the evening before had vanished. Looking out on the world at hand, how could anyone not deem it good? she wondered. The vastness. The perfection. The beauty . All spoke to her heart. She was glad to be alive. Glad to be a part of it. She felt her heart grow with joy. This . . . this is what life is meant to be .
    A warning whistle sliced the morning air with a shrillness that was both melancholy and invasive, and they pulled into a small town. Christine leaned her head against the cool window and watched a scurry of activity. Horses stomped and blew great drafts of frosty air. Men called and pulled and heaved and loaded, their whiskers whitened by frozen breath. There were few women or children about. An occasional hand stirring aside a curtain was about as much indication that they, too, occupied the town. But Christine knew they were there. She saw it in the smoke that curled slowly up from the chimneys. In the small sleds leaning against woodsheds. In the snowmen in fenced yards and the brooms that stood beside the doors, inviting one to sweep the snow from boots and clothing before entering the kitchen.
    She even thought she saw it in the scurrying of the men, for why else would they rush about in such inclement weather if not to provide for someone dear who shared the home?
    The act of stopping, of observing, of moving on once again, was repeated throughout the day. Christine thought her mother paid little attention to the hustle and bustle, so was surprised when Elizabeth leaned forward, her entire face alight with excitement.
    “Look,” she cried. “We’ve reached Lacombe.”
    Christine had heard enough family history to know that Lacombe was the area where her mother had taught school. She had, on two occasions, visited her grandmother Delaney and her aunt, uncle, and cousins who still lived on the family farm outside the small town. Still, she was not prepared for Elizabeth’s reaction.
    “Oh, I wish we could stop. How I’d love to visit the school again. And the little teacherage. The dear little teacherage. I was so happy there.”
    Christine chuckled. “From what you’ve said before, I always thought you were quite