The Sacred Shore
The Sacred Shore
© 2000 by Janette Oke & T. Davis Bunn
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwiseâwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-5855-8877-0
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
Cover by Dan Thornberg
This book is dedicated to
one who was
a special friend
and enthusiastic reader
Laura Lohmeyer
who, at age sixteen, is now in His hands.
Books by Janette Oke
Return to Harmony   â¢Â   Another Homecoming
Tomorrow's Dream
A
CTS OF
F
AITH
*
The Centurion's Wife   â¢Â   The Hidden Flame   â¢Â   The Damascus Way
C
ANADIAN
W
EST
When Calls the Heart   â¢Â   When Comes the Spring
When Breaks the Dawn   â¢Â   When Hope Springs New
Beyond the Gathering Storm
When Tomorrow Comes
L
OVE
C
OMES
S
OFTLY
Love Comes Softly   â¢Â   Love's Enduring Promise
Love's Long Journey   â¢Â   Love's Abiding Joy
Love's Unending Legacy   â¢Â   Love's Unfolding Dream
Love Takes Wing   â¢Â   Love Finds a Home
A P
RAIRIE
L
EGACY
The Tender Years   â¢Â   A Searching Heart
A Quiet Strength   â¢Â   Like Gold Refined
S
EASONS OF THE
H
EART
Once Upon a Summer   â¢Â   The Winds of Autumn
Winter Is Not Forever   â¢Â   Spring's Gentle Promise
S
ONG OF
A
CADIA
*
The Meeting Place   â¢Â   The Sacred Shore   â¢Â   The Birthright
The Distant Beacon   â¢Â   The Beloved Land
W
OMEN OF THE
W
EST
The Calling of Emily Evans   â¢Â   Julia's Last Hope
Roses for Mama   â¢Â   A Woman Named Damaris
They Called Her Mrs. Doc   â¢Â   The Measure of a Heart
A Bride for Donnigan   â¢Â   Heart of the Wilderness
Too Long a Stranger   â¢Â   The Bluebird and the Sparrow
A Gown of Spanish Lace   â¢Â   Drums of Change
*
with Davis Bunn
Books by
T. Davis Bunn
The Book of Hours
The Great Divide
Winner Take All
The Lazarus Trap
Elixir
Imposter
Lion of Babylon
All Through the Night
My Soul to Keep
A
CTS OF
F
AITH
*
The Centurion's Wife  â¢Â  The Hidden Flame
The Damascus Way
S
ONG OF
A
CADIA
*
The Meeting Place  â¢Â  The Sacred Shore
The Birthright  â¢Â  The Distant Beacon
The Beloved Land
H
EIRS OF
A
CADIA
â
The Solitary Envoy  â¢Â  The Innocent Libertine
The Noble Fugitive  â¢Â  The Night Angel
Falconer's Quest
*
with Janette Oke      Â
â
with Isabella Bunn
JANETTE OKE was born in Champion, Alberta, to a Canadian prairie farmer and his wife, and she grew up in a large family full of laughter and love. She is a graduate of Mountain View Bible College in Alberta, where she met her husband, Edward, and they were married in May of 1957. After pastoring churches in Indiana and Canada, the Okes spent some years in Calgary, where Edward served in several positions on college faculties while Janette continued her writing. She has written forty-eight novels for adults and another sixteen for children, and her book sales total nearly thirty million copies.
The Okes have three sons and one daughter, all married, and are enjoying their fifteen grandchildren. Edward and Janette are active in their local church and make their home near Didsbury, Alberta.
T. DAVIS BUNN has been a professional novelist for twenty years. His books have sold in excess of six million copies in sixteen languages, appearing on numerous national bestseller lists.
Davis is known for the diversity of his writing talent, from gentle gift books like
The Quilt
to high-powered thrillers like
The Great Divide
. He has also enjoyed great success in his collaborations with Janette Oke, with whom he has coauthored a series of ground-breaking historical novels.
In developing his work, Davis draws on a rich background of international experience. Raised in North Carolina, he completed his undergraduate studies at Wake Forest University. He then traveled to London to earn a master's degree in international economics and finance before embarking on a distinguished business career that took him to more than thirty countries in Europe, Africa, and the Middle East.
Davis has received numerous literary accolades, including three Christy Awards for excellence in fiction. He currently serves as Writer-in-Residence at Regent's Park College, Oxford University, and is a sought-after lecturer on the craft of writing.
Contents
Catherine stood within the shadows of the kitchen and watched her daughter pass before the open window. She glanced at the delicate face framed in dark hair and knew instantly where Anne was going. Catherine began to call out to her, to tell her that it was time to prepare dinner. But she held back. Though it had always been difficult to allow Anne to be alone at times like this, Catherine knew with a mother's instinct that she must give her daughter these moments on her own.
Her daughter
. Catherine moved closer to the window to watch the slender figure continue down the village lane. Anne was headed for the cliffside, a high promontory with far-reaching views. Just beyond the village borders, the sparkling blue Bay of Fundy joined with Cobequid Bay. When Anne was still a young child, she had taken to walking out there with her grandfather, and she had selected an ancient tree trunk as her favorite spot. Catherine had joined them on several occasions, and she knew Anne still went to sit there and be alone with her thoughts.
What is she thinking of today?
Catherine wondered as Anne moved out of sight. A child no longer, she was now eighteen, with a quiet yet joyful nature. Even so, there were moments like these when the stillness seemed to gather about her like a shroud. Then her features became as grave and inscrutable as an elderly woman's, and Anne would wander off on her own.
Catherine could not help but ask herself again if they had done the right thing. Should she and Andrew have told her early on about her heritage? About being born to a French family, then being exchanged for Catherine's own infant so she could be taken to an English doctor, and then losing contact with her birth parents after the tragic French expulsionâwas it right to subject a young child to such truths? Was it proper, as she and Andrew had with great soul-searching concluded, to tell Anne these things while she was still young and able to accept with a child's loving trust? At moments like these, when Anne's features became etched with the quiet sorrow of pieces missing from her life, Catherine could not help but wonder.
Other memories too painful to ponder tumbled through her mind, and instantly Catherine returned to her dinner preparations, the motions as natural as breathing. There were more questions she dared not ask. Not any longer.
Before Charles Harrow set foot upon land, he already loathed the place. Halifax was, to his mind, loud and ugly and utterly unappealing. Nothing about the scene seemed inviting at all. The sun rested on the western slopes and shone upon the town rising in dirty, unkempt stages from the harbor. Jostling throngs filling the harbor square were forced to thread their way through bleating cattle and shouting soldiers. From every corner rang hammers and saws and shouts intermingled with the mewling of the animals. The workmen's dust was so thick it reminded him of the storm at sea they had recently endured. Charles sneezed into his handkerchief and wished himself back in London, away from these untamed and uncivilized colonies. The fact that a whim of fate had forced him here left him furious. He was not accustomed to doing anything other than exactly what suited him most.
“As I live and breathe, there's the
Pride of Weymouth
,” cried the captain, moving up alongside him at the rail. “Look at her resting there at anchor, calm as by-your-leave. I never thought we'd see her spars again.”
Lord Charles, eighth earl of Sutton, released an explosive breath. It would do no good to bemoan his fate again. He had survived the journey; he had made the crossing. He snuffled and made rejoinder out of courtesy rather than interest. “Your son is on that vessel, am I right?”
“Aye, if he didn't wash overboard like your two servants. The lad shipped as midshipman, against his mother's wishes. Eleven years old and the youngest of my brood. I'll rest easier once I learn I don't have to go back and tell the missus he was lost at sea.”
Charles Harrow sighed heavily and squinted over the bustling capital of the colony known as Nova Scotia. Halifax was a city that threatened to burst its own seams.
My servants
. The older man had been with Charles since he was a child, since before his father had died and passed on to him the estates and the money and the power. The old servant had been like a second father, so attached to Lord Charles he could not think of letting him make this journey alone. And now he was gone, buried in the heart of a storm Charles had thought would cost them all their lives.
As though reading his thoughts, the captain confessed, “There were moments when I thought we all were headed for Davy Jones's locker.”
Charles turned to the captain, noting more gray in the man's beard than there had been at the beginning of their voyage. “It seems strange to look at our rigging and not see icicles long as my arm.”
“Crossings to Halifax this early in the season remain rare for good reason. But you made it, sir, and arrived here while the hills remain topped with white.” The captain offered the glimmer of a smile. “That's something for you to tell your grandchildren.”
My grandchildren
. Charles Harrow ground his teeth at this unwelcome reminder of why he had made the perilous journey. “I must be off,” he muttered.
