“He let the rabbits go,” Shannon murmured.

“Ah, you heard about the rabbits.” Murphy smiled at the memory. “Going to make a fortune off them, he was—until it came down to the sticking point. He was always after making a fortune.”

“You really loved him.”

“I did. He wasn’t a substitute for my father, nor did he try to be one. It wasn’t the male figure they say a boy needs in his life. He was as much my father from my fifteenth year as the one who made me was before. He was always there for me. When I was grieving, he’d pop up, take me for a ride to the cliffs, or a trip into Galway with the girls. He held my head the first time I sicked up whiskey I’d had no business drinking. And when I’d had my first woman, I—”

He broke off and developed a keen interest in his meal.

Shannon lifted a brow. “Oh, don’t stop now. What happened, when you’d had your first woman?”

“What usually happens, I’d suppose. This is a fine breakfast, Shannon.”

“Don’t change the subject. How old were you?”

He gave her a pained look. “ ’Tisn’t seemly to discuss such matters with the woman you’re currently sharing breakfast with.”

“Coward.”

“Aye,” he agreed heartily and filled his flapping mouth with eggs.

“You’re safe, Murphy.” Her laughter faded. “I’d really like to know what he said to you.”

Because it was important to her, he crawled over his embarrassment. “I was . . . I’d been . . .”

“You don’t have to tell me that part.” She smiled to soothe him. “Now, anyway.”

“After,” he said, relieved to have gotten past that first leap. “I was feeling proud—manly I’d guess you could say. And as confused as a monkey with three tails. Guilty, terrified I might have gotten the girl pregnant because I’d been too hot—young and stupid,” he corrected, “to think of that before the matter. So I was sitting out on the wall, a part of me wondering when I might get back and do the whole thing again, and the other part waiting for God to strike me dead for doing it in the first place. Or for Ma to find out and do the job quicker and with less mercy than God ever would.”

“Murphy.” She forgot herself and bit into a slice of bacon. “You’re so sweet.”

“It’s as much a moment in a man’s life as it is a woman’s I’d say. Anyway, I was sitting there thinking of what you might imagine, and Tom comes along. He sits next to me and says nothing for a time. Just sits and looks out over the fields. It must have been all over my face. He puts his arm around my shoulders. ‘Made a man of yourself,’ he says, ‘and you’re proud of it. But it takes more than sliding into a willing lass to make a man. Takes responsibility.’ ”

Murphy shook his head and picked up his tea. “Now I’m sick thinking I might have to marry her, and me barely seventeen and no more in love with her than she with me. And I say so. He just nods, not lecturing or scolding. He tells me if God and fate are looking kindly, he knows I’ll remember it, and have more of a care next time out. ‘There’ll be a next time,’ he says, ‘because a man doesn’t stop going down such a lovely path once he’s begun it. And a woman is a glorious thing to hold and to have. The right woman, when you find her, is more than sunlight. You watch for her, Murphy, and while you’re sniffing those sweet flowers along the way, treat them with care and affection, and don’t bruise their petals. If you love with kindness, even when you can’t love with permanence, you’ll deserve the one who’s waiting along that path for you.’ ”