Chapter Fourteen
A moist breeze blew inland as we neared Toronto. I turned off the main highway and drove down a narrow road and then up a hill where Lake Ontario, the lake of shining waters in the Wyandot language, could be seen in the distance as a full moon was rising in the clear, deep blue, early evening sky. I rounded a corner with no street signs and the view of the lake disappeared. A few minutes later I turned on to another road, while looking in the rear-view mirror to catch a glimpse of what appeared to be an older red Mercedes Benz, that also turned the corner and blinked its lights. I bit my lower lip. It was probably my neighbor. She has a 1990’s red Mercedes.
“We’re here!” I abruptly said and pulled on to a ribbon of black asphalt drive wide enough for a large sedan. In th
