In the Midnight Hour

Be It Ever So Humble ...

Sarae was so tired she could hardly see straight as she drove home in her old pickup truck, rolling down the deserted highway at 3 a.m. Yet she was overflowing with jubilation. "That was amazing! I can't even comprehend how amazing that was. Oh, my gosh."

She yawned for so long that she had to finally force her eyes open to be sure she wasn't driving off the road. She rolled down both windows, trying to stay awake. The cool night air blew in, sending her hair flying.

"I hope you're watching the road," Zoe said in her little owl voice with a flutter of her wings. She sat on the back of the seat, her feathers getting adorably fluffed in the wind.

"I'm half-tempted to pull over and take a nap, but I'm so close to home," Sarae said. "Do you think he'll want to talk to me again?"

"Don't ask me. I'm a screech owl. I just fly around and eat mice."

She drove into the tiny village of Smith's Creek, population 52, and climbed out of her truck, almost ready to lie down on the yard and go to sleep.

"Nighty-night," Zoe said, flying past her into the darkness around her house, where she vanished to do some hunting. Sarae gave Zoe nice morsels to eat – the screech owl was crazy about chicken nuggets – but she still liked to fly out into the forest and catch her own.

The night air was alive with the trills of field crickets in the grass. She breathed deeply of the spicy scent of the forest up in the hills. Her favorite fragrance. She'd lived here for a year, and was still a little frightened of the quiet of the country. But she was growing to love the sounds and smells of where she lived.

Sarae came in, locking the door behind her and turning on her light.

She said, "Be it ever so humble, there's no place ...."

She sucked in a breath. Couldn't believe that had come out of her mouth.

Her house was simply decorated. A few Degas prints on the wall, some houseplants by the window, a big bookshelf full of books she'd brought with her from Buffalo. She'd been reading Greek plays since she'd come here. She had left home a year ago.

Be it ever so humble ....

She'd been ready to go to sleep before she'd said that. Now she was wide awake.

And her heart ached. If only she had somebody in this world to cling to. Somebody to love.

She'd lived much like a hermit over the last year, and had been too shy to seek out any men to bring home with her, even for the night. But she dreamed about it, and her dreams left her drenched with unfulfilled desire, and nobody to work it off on.

But there was also nobody to talk to. Sex was no good if you couldn't share your heart with the one you were making love with.