Free Where Old Ghosts Meet by Kate Evans

Ireland we call this crackling. We have it with roast pork but it’s fresh, not salty.”
    The fat bubbled as Peg continued to pat and turn the cod tongues. “The small ones is best. They got to be fried right out until they’re golden and a little crisp.”
    I bet they do, Nora thought, trying to suppress the queasy feeling in her stomach. The smell of cooking had whetted her appetite but the very thought of cod tongues made her shudder. Texture was what was bothering her: soft, slithery, pockets of flesh that need to be “fried right out.”
    â€œJust a few for me. I’m not very hungry.”
    Peg was picking them off the pan and dividing them equally between two plates. “Not everyone likes the tongues, or the cheeks for that matter. But it’s nice to have a taste of Newfoundland food now you’re here. But no matter, if you don’t like them, you can lay them to one side.” She then heaped a spoonful of mashed potatoes and a sprinkling of scruncheons on the plates and dinner was ready. “Now sit over to the table.” She handed Nora a plate.
    Nora contemplated the food. There were six tongues to be eaten. She nibbled on a few scruncheons, swallowed several forkfuls of mashed potatoes, and then told herself that the scruncheons should be saved to help get the tongues down. She had to admit they looked tasty enough and smelled good. If only she didn’t know what they were, hadn’t seen them. She cut one in half. Something soft and jellylike appeared in the middle. She put a scruncheon on top and swallowed it whole, washing it down with a mouthful of water.
    â€œSo now tell me, Nora, you say you work in Montreal?” Peg was busy with her food now.
    â€œI’m a teacher. High school English. I’m hoping to save some money while I’m in Canada and then go back to study for a master’s degree in England. There’s some interesting work being done there on teaching methods and the different ways people learn.”
    Peg swallowed and looked at Nora. “Is that right?” It was not a question, just a registering of interest. She turned back to her food. “And do you have a young man, Nora?”
    â€œNo.”
    The clipped nature of the reply was not lost on Peg.
    â€œNo, no, I don’t,” Nora repeated in a softer voice, regretting her abruptness. “Not at the moment.”
    Peg laid down her knife and fork and was about to say something else when Nora cut her off.
    â€œI was engaged to be married but we broke it off in the spring. Well, he broke it off. He found someone else. I suppose it wasn’t to be.” She threw a weak smile in Peg’s direction.
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that, Nora.”
    â€œIt’s okay now.” She touched her ring finger, remembering the beautiful solitaire and how it had sparkled in the candlelight on that magical night when he had asked her to marry him. It had been a big surprise but not near as big as the surprise of finding him with someone else. Startled by the intensity of the memory, she sat upright, quickly hiding her hands below the table top. “That’s part of the reason I came to Newfoundland. It was a diversion, something new to focus on over the summer. I suppose it beats having to plan a wedding.” A wan smile played briefly at the corners of her mouth. “I work with a woman from St John’s and she encouraged me to come here. ‘Go on, girl,’ she said to me. ‘You can stay with Mom and Dad. They’ll take you around and show you where to go to find your grandfather, if he’s still to be found. My dear, they’d love that. Go on, no sense hangin’ about all summer lookin’ like you fished all day and caught nothin’.’” Nora laughed as she recounted her friend’s enthusiasm. She had been like a mother to her, helping her over the hump. “So here I am.”
    â€œWell I’m very glad