The Sacred Shore by T. Davis Bunn Read Free Book Online Page A

after so much hostility between himself and his brother. So many years of quarreling and struggle, especially after their mother had passed away. In truth, he had always feared his brother. Andrew had been a strong and handsome lad, clearly his mother’s favorite, and a threat to Charles’s full inheritance. But Charles had won in the end, gaining both the riches and the title. And yet here he was, hat in hand, having set out across the North Atlantic to search for a brother he had not heard from in over twenty years.
    His jaw clenched in frustration and his heels dug into the flanks of his horse. He might as well finish what he had begun.
    The church steeple was the tallest structure in Georgetown, taller even than the highest trees. The building was whitewashed and as sturdy as all the other structures, set in a clearing bordered by fields and the descent to the Bay of Fundy. If Charles had not been so on edge, he probably would have found it attractive in a quaint sort of way. As with the rest of the village, there was no sign of wealth to the church, no stained glass or ornate decorations. Yet there was also none of the poverty and filth he always associated with English villages of comparable size.
    Charles hitched his horse to the gatepost and mounted the church steps. He hesitated there, drawn to stillness by all the anguish that plagued his nights, by all that was hanging on this meeting. He glanced up to where the village lane joined with the road to Halifax. The surrounding hills still bore stained drifts of late snow, the air still held a wintry bite. By this time his own English gardens would be in full bloom, the air fragrant and full of birdsong. Charles had a fleeting fierce desire to leave this humiliating encounter behind, just ride away and take the next ship back to England and home.
    Angrily he turned away from the road and the hills and the sunlit day. He had no choice. None. He struck the door latch with his fist and was sorry to find the church unlocked.
    It was not his clergyman brother who stood startled by his sudden appearance. Instead a young lady with broom in hand, her eyes round with surprise, faced him and asked, “Can I help you?”
    â€œI …” Charles found his anger fading as fast as it had appeared. What to say to this young woman? “I … I was riding by and found myself wishing to enter the church.”
    To his own ears, the words were feeble. But she seemed to find nothing unusual in them. She offered him a polite curtsy and said, “You are most welcome.” She backed up a pace, but her eyes did not leave his face. “Have you visited Georgetown before?”
    â€œNo. Not ever.”
    â€œI thought not. I know everyone here, and most of their relatives and friends.” She gave a genuine smile. “It is a pastor’s lot to be involved in the lives of all around us. Even the outsiders we come to know at least by sight.”
    â€œYes, I suppose you must.” Charles sat down in the nearest pew and studied this woman intently. “You are related to the pastor?”
    â€œI am his daughter. My name is Anne.”
    His heart leapt with the urge to blurt out his own identity. To ask of his brother’s welfare. But he bit down on the question and fought to keep his voice even. Controlled. “I’m honored to meet you, Anne. Miss Anne.”
    She smiled shyly, nodded an acknowledgment, and resumed her sweeping. “And I am glad to find a gentleman who is willing to take time from his day to stop in God’s house. Time with the Lord should not be left only for the Sabbath, do you not agree?”
    â€œYes,” Charles managed to affirm after a moment of hesitation. “I suppose so.” He draped both hands over the pew in front and leaned forward, watching her as she moved gracefully at her task, his thoughts far from the exchange about church attendance. He could scarcely believe his good fortune. This was no