Pleased, L’Errant clasped his hands in front of him, then let them relax by his waist. “We have an agreement, then.” He seemed to be waiting for something. The stranger cleared his throat. “I assume the fabled basement must be down that stairway? It has been a tremendously long journey and I have things to unpack.”
Only then did it occur to Keith that L’Errant wouldn’t know the way. “Follow me.” He led him to the flight of stairs, Granny Ruth following close behind.
“You poor thing, you must be exhausted,” said Granny Ruth as she opened the door, quickly turning on the basement light.
“You have no idea. It seems like it’s taken me an eternity to get here,” replied their guest.
Granny Ruth made her way down the stairs, the groan of abundantly aged wood and dampness telling the world not to trust its strength for much longer.
Keith led his guest to the corner where he had constructed the room for Tiffany, a place she had earlier referred to as a reserve within a reserve. Granny Ruth started moving all her granddaughter’s clothes and CDs back upstairs. Keith looked almost apologetic. “It’s not much, like I said. You can still change your mind, if you want.”
“Nonsense. This will be fine. I already feel at home.” L’Errant reached into his pocket and brought out his wallet. He opened it and removed several hundred-dollar bills and promptly handed them over to Keith. “I hope this will be sufficient?”
Keith eyed the bills. That would pay all of this month’s utilities and potentially several more months. Maybe having some stranger staying in his basement wasn’t such a bad idea. Who knows, he thought, maybe he could talk the guy into staying a bit longer.
“Thank you very much, Mr. L’Errant . . . Pierre. Sorry. Just let us know if you need anything. Anything. Have a good night. I’ve got a very early morning.”
“It is indeed a good night. Sleep well, Keith.”The man was left alone in the makeshift room, a slight breeze coming from the small window next to it. It was head high in the cement, ground level outside. It was open, maybe an inch. L’Errant opened the window full, and the breeze increased. He breathed in the air deeply. It filled his sinuses and lungs. This land had an aroma that he had waited so long to smell again. He was home. And this time, he would not leave again.
EIGHT
HIGH ABOVE the house an owl surveyed the landscape. With its piercing eyesight, it could see deep into the forest despite the darkness of the night. It was the perfect nocturnal winged predator. Slightly hungry, it casually scanned the terrain below the towering oak tree to see what was available. To its lower right, something caught its attention. One of those two-legged creatures that seemed to be everywhere was crawling out of a window.
Curious, it watched the human stand upright and brush himself off. And then, scanning the forest in his own manner, he looked up, directly into the owl’s eyes. It was as if the two-legged creature could see the owl, quietly nestled in the thick of the branches at the top of a very tall tree. The owl was used to being invisible. In fact, the construction of its wings made even its flight virtually soundless. A whisper in a land of winds. So it should have been impossible for this creature, famous for having such poor night vision, to see the nocturnal raptor.
The human pursed his lips and emitted a note-perfect owl call: “who . . . who . . . who . . . ” It was so perfect, even the owl did a double take. The two-legged beast could see him and talk like him. This was too much for the simple country owl. This was not the way things were supposed to be. Knowing there would be good hunting down by the lake, the owl eagerly leapt off the branch, spread its strong wings, and ascended into the night.
As the owl flew north, the two-legged creature on the ground watched it leave. Then, smiling to himself, he noticed a dead leaf hanging from his left coat sleeve. Carefully, he picked it off and let it fall. Before the orange-hued oak leaf hit the ground, the newcomer to the forest had disappeared from sight, barely making a sound. Even the owl, had it decided to stay, would have had difficulty following his movements.
There was another predator in the forests of Otter Lake.
In the stranger’s youth, there had been many stories and legends told of the time animals and man spoke the same language. Then, depending on which variation you heard, communication broke down. Man and animal were still brothers and responsible for each other, but they just didn’t talk anymore. Those stories came flooding back to Pierre as he made his way through the forests. The familiar animals of his youth were all around him. A skunk that was hard to miss for obvious reasons slept a dozen or so yards to his left. A small fox, unaware of the man sitting on a branch twenty feet above him, stuck his nose in a pile of leaves looking for a shrew. Even the owl the man had locked eyes with earlier was now invisible in the distance to all but the stranger’s unusually strong vision.
A long time ago, in the before time, the stranger had gone by the name of Owl. He had answered to that name, proudly given to him by his parents. His parents . . . it was hard to believe a creation like him could have parents, born of a loving mother, taught to swim, hunt, and fish by a loving father. But like many things in his life, memories such as those had dimmed. Some by time, some by intention. Far in the distance he could hear this community slowly going to bed. Living their mortal existence. In some cultures, the owl was a symbol of foreboding, even of death. Some would consider the stranger to be the same.
In the uncountable years, he had killed frequently. Without thought. Without effort. He was dangerous to those voices out there going to bed, like the owl to a mouse. He was strong. He was quiet. He was deadly. And what was worse, there was nothing the unsuspecting people could have done. Because, many would argue, he did not exist. And when you do not exist, it’s very hard for people to defend against you.
Once more, the stranger scanned the home of his ancestors, taking in the sights, the sounds, and the smells. In a flash, he was gone. It was time to visit the village of Otter Lake.
NINE
IT WAS AN unseasonably warm night and the bonfire made it noticeably hotter. In a less politically correct time, some might have called it Indian summer. About a dozen cars were parked in a circular fashion around a big pit, in which the large bonfire burned brightly. As always, all sorts of flying insects holding on stubbornly to the fading warmth of the fall crowded the fire, drawn by the light but held back by the heat. Teens were scattered all around the area, sitting on car hoods, on dead logs closer to the blaze. Still others were walking around the woods farther away. Many were drinking beer, others pop. Almost everybody was having a good time.
They had been there for about two hours and Tiffany dreaded going home. She knew she had nothing to look forward to other than concrete cinder blocks and a malfunctioning sump pump. Here, by the fire, she had Tony. This was her first bush party with his friends and so far she was enjoying it. Sort of. There were some familiar faces she recognized from school, others that worked at the McDonald’s or places like that. But none of her own friends were there. It took a while, but she finally realized that there were no other Native kids at all. Only her. She tried not to let it worry her—after all, she would have to get used to this if she wanted to be with Tony. People just brought people they knew. And Tony knew her.
And where was Tony? He had gone off to pee behind one of the bushes what seemed like ages ago. This location had been a favorite hangout for years, resulting in a party practically every weekend until it snowed. It was secluded but accessible. The pit had seen several generations of fire builders and party animals over the years. It was a wonder the trees and bushes in the immediate area weren’t dying of urine poisoning.
“Hey, miss me?” Tony slid onto the hood next to her.
Tiffany was leaning over to kiss him when she noticed a strong odor. “Tony, is that what I think it is?”
He took his coat off and wrapped it around her. “Oh that. Just smoking a joint, that’s all. Getting into the party mode.”
It’s not that she minde
d Tony doing stuff like that, or at least she tried to tell herself that. After all, he was a year older than her. And Tiffany Hunter did not consider herself a prude. This very evening, in fact, she had downed two beers, and sixteen-year-olds who drink two beers cannot be called prudes, she reasoned. But her mother had been a chain-smoker, and the smell of smoke constantly coming off her mother’s clothes, their couch, even their curtains had dimmed Tiffany’s interest in smoking of any kind.
“I know, you don’t like it. That’s why Mitch and I smoked it over there. See, I’m always thinking of you.” That sounded like an odd way of thinking about her, but Tiffany decided to let it pass. She didn’t want to argue. Instead, she looked around at the crowd once more. An awful lot of white faces.
“Want another beer?” asked Tony.
Tiffany took the beer, not sure if she wanted another one. “Don’t any of your friends know anybody from Otter Lake?”
“I think George’s father hires a fishing guide or something over there. And Jamie gets his cigarettes from somewhere on the reserve. And there’s a Native guy on Terry’s baseball team. Why?”
“I don’t know. Just curious.”
She could see people near the fire, occasionally stealing looks at them and talking in hushed tones. Tiffany had seen stuff like that all night, and it was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable. Why were they looking at her, and at her and Tony? She wanted to ask them directly but thought better of it.
“Tony, why do those guys keep looking at me funny?” She pointed discreetly to three boys near the fire, each with a can of Labatt’s Blue in his hand. Tony casually glanced in their direction.
“Oh them. That’s Dave and his two cousins. It’s nothing.”
“It must be something.”
“Well.” Tony, for the first time that night, seemed a little uncomfortable. “You’re the first Native person to come to one of these. That’s all. They were probably just commenting on that. That’s all.” He took big swig of his beer.
“How come?”
Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve only been coming to these parties for a few years. Maybe nobody from Otter Lake ever wanted to come.” Tiffany found that highly unlikely. There had always been a bit of friction between Otter Lake and the rest of the area. In the high school, each hallway belonged to a different part of the county. Since most of the students were bussed in, they tended to congregate together and took over different parts of the school. There was some intervillage rivalry, but any difficulties that had developed had seldom entered Tiffany’s specific world.
Though the night was hot, Tiffany was beginning to feel chilly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’m feeling weird here.” She saw another two people near a cedar bush taking turns looking and whispering. “Tony, have you ever gone out with another Native girl?”
Tony laughed. “No. You’re the first. Have you ever gone out with a white boy?”
Smiling, Tiffany shook her head.
“There you go. It’s a learning experience for the both of us.” He gave her a quick squeeze.
“Hey, Tony!!” On the other side of the bonfire, a group of four girls waved to him, then beckoned him to come over. Smiling, he waved back.
“Hey, Julie’s back in town! She was at her parent’s cottage up north. Just a second, I’ll be right back.” He jumped off the car and went running toward the girls.
“But . . . Tony?”
“I’ll be right back. Promise. Go talk to some other people. Let them get to know you.” Tiffany was about to shout louder, but her objection ended up dying in her throat. As angry as she was, Tiffany was far too self-conscious to draw more attention to herself.
Instead, she watched Tony run up to the girls, who hugged him, planting many kisses on his cheek. Six in all. Tiffany counted.
Again, Tony had taken off on her. In fact, Tony had been spending an awful lot of time away from her side all evening. Three trips to pee, the toke session, one trip to look for some additional beer. And he never invited her to come along. Tiffany could understand not coming on the bathroom trips, but why not the others? In the two hours she’d been there, Tiffany had met no new people. Am I overreacting? she wondered as she sat alone.
Ten agonizingly long minutes passed before Tiffany managed to work up the nerve to mingle. Summoning up her courage, she walked toward that group of boys by the fire. Gripping the beer in her hand, she struggled to project an air of confidence.
“Hey, what’s up?”
The three boys looked at her. The one Tony had called Dave seemed surprised. No one spoke as Tiffany stood there, waiting for some kind of response.
Finally, Dave spoke.
“Hi.”
Again silence.
“Tony tells me you guys know each other.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
More silence. Tiffany could feel herself beginning to shuffle back and forth on her heels, something she did when she was uncomfortable.
“Oh. From where?”
All three boys looked at one another. It was difficult for Tiffany to figure out what they were thinking.
One of the cousins spoke up. “Uh, we’ve never seen you here before.”
“Yeah. It’s my first time.”
“You’re from Otter Lake, right?”
She nodded. Perhaps a little too vigorously.
“Don’t get a lot of Otter Lake people here.”
“Is that a problem?”
They were oddly silent, as was Tiffany. Then Dave shrugged.
“We gotta go.” And like birds in the air, they turned at the same time and walked away. Tiffany couldn’t decide if she was insulted or relieved.
Tony was driving faster than normal because he could tell he was in deep trouble. Tiffany was talking without even looking at him. “It’s not that I don’t want you to hang out with your friends. But you didn’t have to leave me sitting on the hood of your car all night. You could have taken me with you, you know. You could have introduced me to your friends.” Ahead of them was only blackness as Tony’s car cut a path through Jap Land to his girlfriend’s house. And Tiffany’s mood was just about as dark. As with many relationships, the stirrings of puppy love had given way to the growling pit bull of reality.
Annoyingly, Tony seemed slightly amused. “Hey, I saw you talking to Ralph and his cousins. See, you didn’t need me.” Just ahead, a rabbit darted across the road.
“I don’t know them. It was so useless. It was like talking to a lilac bush, except a lilac bush would have been a lot more pleasant. They were rude and I felt so embarrassed. I was there with you! Is it that you don’t want to be seen with me? Is that it?” The fight she had avoided earlier seemed to be making a belated appearance.
Again a small smile touched his lips. “No, that is not it. Hey, I took you, didn’t I?”
“You took me but you certainly weren’t with me. Tony, I’m getting the feeling some of your friends aren’t exactly thrilled with the fact you’re with an Otter Lake girl. Is that true?”
The smile left his lips. “Why? What have you heard?”
“I haven’t heard anything. But the attitude I’ve been getting says a lot. It’s kinda obvious.” This time, Tiffany looked at him expectantly, wanting an answer.
For a moment, his handsome features were lost in the dark, then he finally spoke. “Yeah. Nothing specific, just stupid talk. Even my parents. But who cares, right? That’s their problem, not ours.” Again he smiled, and the gloom lifted ever so slightly in the dark car.
For no reason, Tiffany found herself saying, “My mother lives with a white guy.”
“Oh.” The car seemed to eat up the miles as silence once again descended. “I get the impression your father ain’t too pleased with me. For a lot of the same reasons. I mean, that’s life, right?”
Looking out into the night, she went quiet once more. The drive was taking forever. For a few minutes, the only sound was the occasional moth hitting the windshield.
“And wher
e were you all that time with Julie? You disappeared once you got to the cars. You said you’d just be a second. That was one long second. In fact, it was seventeen minutes.”
This time Tony responded with a laugh. “You timed me? Come on, Julie and I are old friends. We’ve known each other since grade four. You’re mad at me. That is so cute.”
Tiffany would normally love being called cute. It was a pretty safe compliment. But that was at the best of times. This was not the best of times, and calling her cute during the slow burn of her anger was perhaps not the best way for Tony to placate her. She gave him the coldest stare she could muster, which unfortunately was lost in the darkness of the car.
“I am not cute. This is not cute. I’m very mad at you.”
“You know, I took you to that party. I didn’t have to. I wanted to. Okay, so things didn’t work out as planned, but I did try. How many parties have you invited me to in Otter Lake?” If there was one thing Tiffany hated in an argument, it was somebody daring to throw a log of logic into the angry fire.
“That’s . . . that’s . . . different. And you’re changing the subject.”
He smiled smugly. “Uh, huh.”
“I don’t go to a lot of parties in Otter Lake.” Then Tiffany remembered that she was supposed to be partying it up with Darla and Kim tonight. That was a party. Was she lying to her boyfriend? Christ, how many more things could go wrong tonight? She just wanted to get home. The rest of the ride passed slowly as Tiffany stewed.
Upon their arrival at the house, Midnight was oddly silent. Tony noticed something else too. “Hey look, there’s a car in your driveway. It’s the Camry we saw.”
The guest. In all the stress, she had conveniently forgotten about the guy from Europe . . . what was his name? L’ Error or something. It had been a difficult night, a worse ride home, and now she had nothing to look forward to but sleeping in the basement. The only thing that gave her comfort was the belief that things couldn’t get any worse. Then again, the basement had been known to flood during rainstorms . . .
The Night Wanderer Page 6
