Read Online The Night Wanderer by Drew Hayden Taylor - Free Book Online

basement. My goodness, you must be tired, coming all that way. I’m surprised you found us tucked away back here in the dark. Anyway, silly me, my name is Ruth Hunter, but people in the village just call me Granny Ruth. You can too, if you want. Or just Ruth. Whatever tickles your fancy. Well, here’s your tea.”
    She placed the tea into his hands, wrapping his fingers around the steaming cup. He tried to thank her, but once again his words got lost in Granny Ruth’s one-sided conversation. “Now tell me, I don’t mean to be rude but you ain’t what I was expecting. You look like you could have grown up right here, not in that far-off Europe country. You look like an Indian, Mr. L’Errant. Anybody ever tell you that? You really—”
    â€œMs. Hunter . . .”
    Granny Ruth stopped talking.
    L’Errant cleared his throat. “Where to begin. First of all, thank you for the tea, but it’s a little late for me. I’m very selective about what I . . . drink, especially at this time of night. Secondly, yes, I am quite tired. Fatigued, in fact. It’s taken quite a bit out of me to make this journey. I’m not as young as I look. And thirdly. Yes, you guess correctly. I am . . . of Native ancestry.”
    There was an awkward silence, eventually broken by the steady sound of approaching feet on a flight of stairs. Keith, wiping his hands, entered from the basement door. Keith smiled immediately upon seeing his new houseguest.
    â€œYou must be Mr. L’Errant. Well, I’ll be, if I didn’t know you were from Europe, Mr. L’Errant, I would swear you were a cousin. Hi, I’m Keith Hunter, and I guess you’ve met my mother. Welcome to Otter Lake.” He thrust his hand out and took Pierre’s, shaking it hard. He, too, couldn’t help noticing how cold the man’s hand was. And strong.
    L’Errant returned his smile, though never parting his lips. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to be here. I’ve wanted to see Otter Lake for a long time.” The man placed the still-hot cup of tea down on the Formica table, little droplets dripping down the cup’s outer lip due to Keith’s exuberant handshake.
    â€œThey’ve heard of Otter Lake in Europe? Wow. I thought we were in the middle of nowhere. Maybe we ain’t as small as we thought, eh Mom?” Instinctively, Keith washed his hands. “So what made you come all the way here?”
    It seemed as if L’Errant was choosing his words carefully. Maybe it was a European thing, they thought. “It is a long story, but my ancestors came from this area. A long time ago.”
    â€œAnd they ended up in Europe? From Otter Lake? Don’t hear about a lot of Indians, Otter Lake ones or not, living way over there. Were they in the war?”
    For the first time, L’Errant looked puzzled. “The war?”
    â€œYeah, I’ve heard stories of some of our boys enlisting to fight the Germans and never coming back. I supposedly have a great-uncle that fell in love with a Belgian woman and stayed over there after the war was over. Was it something like that?”
    L’Errant was silent for a moment, taking in what had just been said. Then he nodded his head. “Yes. That’s exactly what happened. It was the war. You have a lovely house. Is it just the two of you?”
    â€œI sometimes wonder that, Mr. L’Errant.” Keith snorted. “I have a teenaged daughter somewhere. Tiffany. She’ll be home a little later . . . hopefully. She won’t be any bother.”
    Granny Ruth looked out the doorway, toward the man’s car. “Do you have much luggage?”
    â€œNo, I prefer to travel light. Just a bag or two.”
    Keith started toward the door. “I’ll get them.”
    Before he could move more than a few steps, L’Errant put his hand up to block Keith. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I am quite