No Journey Too Far by Carrie Turansky

Author:Carrie Turansky [Turansky, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2021-06-08T00:00:00+00:00

Emma placed three onions in her basket on top of the two bunches of carrots and turned toward the counter. “Mr. Swanson, do you have any peas?”

The bald, bespectacled grocer offered her a warm smile. “I believe we just had some delivered not an hour ago. I’ll bring some out for you.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind. Mrs. Morton is making beef stew at the café, and she said your spring peas are always the best.”

He puffed out his chest. “Well, you tell Mrs. Morton I’m pleased to hear she likes our peas. I bring them in from Bill Conroy’s farm. He and his wife, Judy, have the best produce in these parts.” He started toward the back of the store, then looked over his shoulder. “Tell Mrs. Morton I’ll be coming by this evening for some of her delightful stew.”

Emma smiled. “I will.”

Mr. Swanson disappeared behind the curtain. Emma checked her list and then glanced around the store. Canned goods filled the shelves against the far wall, and bins of potatoes and onions were stacked next to the front door. Sacks of baking supplies on the shelf behind the counter caught her eye.

Yesterday, Peter had eaten a large slice of her chocolate cake and said it was the finest he’d ever tasted. She smiled at the memory, but a wave of confusion quickly followed. She shouldn’t be thinking about baking cakes to please Peter. She’d made a promise to wait for Garth, and though she’d had no word from him or his family, she wanted to remain true to her word. She turned away from the baking supplies, her heart sore at the memory of Garth’s silence.

Mr. Swanson stepped out from the back room carrying a large basket of bright-green peapods. “Here we are.” He tipped the basket for her to see.

“Oh, those look lovely. I’d like two pounds, please.”

He scooped up the peas and poured them into the basket on the hanging scale. “I’ve noticed you have a nice accent. Where are you from?”

Emma stilled, and her heart pounded as she stared at the grocer.

He tipped his head and studied her. “Nova Scotia or Prince Edward Island? I can usually guess someone’s accent.”

She shook her head. “I’m not from there.”

He lifted his eyebrows, obviously expecting her to answer his question.

She couldn’t lie, so she met his gaze. “I’m from England, but I’ve lived in Canada since I was fifteen, and always in Ontario.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting. I have family in Essex, England. Is that where your family is from?” He slid the peas into a paper sack and held it out toward her.

Her fingers trembled as she took the sack. “No, we’re not from Essex.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her more closely.

Did he suspect she was a British Home Child? Did he hold the common opinion that all Home Children were street rats who should be shunned? Would he spread the word about her background and cause her to lose the few friends she’d made in Kingston?

She dropped the sack of peas into her basket.

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