The Wounded

By A. Dana Colbourne

A mother’s death. A father’s betrayal.
Hope shattered. Wounds run deep.
Who will help the wounded?

When Rachel, a young Irish nurse, crosses the Atlantic to serve a mining community in Newfoundland during the 1900’s, she meets a troubled young man struggling to come to terms with a deep pain that has haunted him ever since he was a boy. Will the unity and faith of the tight-knit town help to begin the healing process? Will this take their relationship to a whole new level?

Like the healing balm of Gilead that soothes and comforts, the wounded can overcome, flourish, serve others, and help to bring about positive changes in their own lives and those of others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Word Alive Press
• Release date: Sep 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781486616275

Book preview

Appendix

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First, I want to say a huge thank you to my Tuesday night prayer group: to Phoebe, Connie, Sherry-Ann, Precious, and Doris. Wow is the only word to describe the great move of God in our group these past four years. In this group I have grown so much to trust God, to know His Word, and to be challenged to go deeper with Him. It is here that I found my true identity and experienced the unconditional love of God, that ultimate love that forgives, frees, and provides abundant living. And it is here where the power of prayer was deeply revealed so I could experience God for who He truly is and not just know about Him and His Word. The gift of writing comes from God, but it is in this group that prayer allowed for the gift to be opened and experienced. And now it can be shared with many in Jesus’s mighty name.

Second, I want to thank my son Noah. His constant support, both in prayer and being my sounding board when I needed someone to listen to a portion or two of my writing, is greatly appreciated. His love and encouragement to trust in God for the publishing of this writing helped me to push through on the toughest of days. Thanks, buddy, and I’m praying that your own book will be published someday. Love you.

I also thank my mother friend Andrea. I praise God for you and for your friendship and godly wisdom through the thirteen-plus years of our relationship, especially for the love, endless hours of reading my manuscript, constantly covering this project in prayer, and above else your constant faith in me on days when I didn’t have faith in myself. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Love you, sister.

I thank my brother Clayton and his wife Cathy, along with my sister Loretta, whose enthusiasm encouraged me to pursue this dream and not give up. Their support really means a great deal and I praise God for their kindness and goodness towards me during this whole process. Love you, guys.

To my cousin Maxena for the endless hours of proofreading and helping me to meet my deadlines when I first submitted part of this manuscript to Word Alive Press’s Women’s Journey of Faith contest. You helped to push me forward when days were difficult and I wanted to give up. Thanks from the bottom of my heart.

I also would like to thank Sylvia St.Cyr and her team at Word Alive Press for all their help in publishing this book. Thanks for your patience, grace, and professionalism.

Lastly, and most important, thanks to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Without You, I would be nothing. And yes, without you I would surely fail. It is You who has made all things work together for my good… and it is You who has healed all my wounds. I will be forever grateful. Love You.

He heals the brokenhearted

and binds up their wounds.

—Psalm 147:4, NKJV

CHAPTER

ONE

Setting foot on the shores of Newfoundland was all Rachel Kane could think about as she wiped her mouth for what seemed like the hundredth time. With her forehead damp from perspiration, hair matted to her scalp like a mad feline, and a taste of pure disgust in her mouth—which she worried might never leave, regardless of how great her dental hygiene was—she waited for the next wave to roll. Roll until it made her so nauseous that once again the sea came face to face with all that her stomach held, no longer the contents of the meal she’d had just days ago but pure yellow bile. The gut-wrenching, heart-stopping pain that whirled in the pit of her stomach was so severe that all she could do was pray that God Almighty would either lay her beneath the sod or speed up this trip to bring her to dry land again.

Traveling by ship to a very cold and desolate community was one thing, because at least Rachel had a berth there and a decent meal to eat, but to travel from Halifax to Harbour Grace, and then travel by schooner to Little Bay Islands, going the rest of the way by punt boat, was unbearable. To think that travel in these parts was mostly done by boat was just appalling.

The sea and the smells that went along with it were no stranger to Rachel. Growing up in the thriving fishing community of Killough, Ireland was the one thing she had in common with these people and this unknown land. Having a father who was a local merchant and supplier of all things to those who fished for a living was sure to add some star quality as well.

One thing was certain: neither here nor back home had she ever set foot in a boat this meager, with such a small, painstakingly slow engine. If that punt-punt sound didn’t end soon, she feared her head would explode—which would be a dire situation for her and Mr. Ambrose Tilley.

No faster were the thoughts out of her head than the noise came to an abrupt stop.

Someone must have been looking down in pity, she thought.

It is okay there now, miss! said Mr. Tilley. That there noise is done with and so is the swayin’ and splashin’ about! I am right sarry that we had such a bad ride from Little Bay Islands, but it couldn’t be helped. I handled the boat the best way that I could! Sometimes the rains come and the seas rise up and there ain’t a darn thing you can do about it. Just hold on fer dear life and pray to God you get home!

All she wanted was for this useless ramble to stop, and to get out of this contraption. She nodded in agreement and just pointed to her luggage.

You wait here now, maid, and I will get yer luggage up on the wharf in no time flat. Then I will get you up there right fast, too!

With luggage on the wharf and his arm to lean on, Rachel struggled to get to her feet. After several attempts, she finally got to a standing position. She just needed a minute to contain herself.

If you don’t mind, Mr. Tilley, could we go ever so slowly in ascending these side stairs to get to the top of this here wharf? If not, I am afraid that once again I will have to dislodge my stomach contents and will surely pass out right here at the foot of your boat.

It was ever so disheartening to see the shades of green appear on her face as they tried to gain their standing position, while the boat swayed from side to side.

The poor lass will never make it to the top before going into another convulsion of dry heaves, thought Mr. Tilley. She was one classy lady through all that had happened since she’d set foot in his small boat. She was trying to remain calm and proper, and it was ever so sad to see that the seasickness was winning.

Best get about this business, miss! How do you feel about me lifting you up there on that wharf me-self? I won’t drop you or anything, I promise you that!

Her face instantly went from green to ashen and she looked like she was going to faint. No man had ever laid a hand on her except her loving father in an adoring embrace. The thought of what Mr. Tilley had suggested would surely turn her face crimson, were it not for the fact that she no longer had any color in her skin left to display, thanks to the unforgiving sea and its rage.

Don’t warry none, miss! I won’t harm ya, I promise! You better make up yer mind right quick now cuz yer not looking too good.

On that note, she pushed down all feelings of indecencies and nodded in agreement. The faster she could get this over with, the better.

Mr. Tilley moved the boat as close to the wharf as possible and rechecked his mooring. After the count of three, it would be all over—hopefully not all over the front of his coat. She closed her eyes and nodded to go, then he swiftly but gently placed her feet on the front of the wharf and told her to put her feet down.