Flowers that had wintered over happily enough and those that had begun to show their spring faces were chewed to pieces by the last teeth of winter. Dooryards went to mud.

Tourists steered clear, and reservations were canceled as the storm gleefully battered Ardmore. Power and phone lines gave out on the third day.

The village huddled down, as it had time and again, to weather the storm. Under more than one roof the mood was edgy. Young children, bored and restless, drove their mothers mad. Tears and warmed bottoms were daily occurrences.

Brenna and her father, shielded with slickers and Wellingtons, stood knee-deep in mud and worse as they searched out the break in the Duffys’ septic system.

“Filthy work, this.” Mick rested against his shovel.

“More than one lowlander’s going to find himself wading in shit if this keeps up.”

“If those bastards from Waterford had showed up, we’d have the tank pumped out, at least.”

“If they ever get here with their big pumper, I say we toss them headfirst into the muck.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Christ Jesus, what a smell. But I think here’s the matter, Dad.”

They hunkered down, rain beating over their heads, and studied the old cracked line with identical expressions of interest and thoughtfulness on their faces. “It’s just as you figured, Dad. The pipe’s old and gave out under the added pressure. It runs from tank to field and bursting’s turned Mrs. Duffy’s nice yard into a dung heap.”

“Well, once she’s cleared out Kathy’ll have herself a well-fertilized garden, won’t she?” As the stench was enormous, Mick breathed through his teeth. “It was a good job of you to think of going and getting the PVC pipe ahead of time. We’ll replace it and see what’s what.”

With a grunt, Brenna got to her feet. They squished over to the truck together. The work was nasty, but the teamwork routine. As they worked, she shot little glances at him.

He’d said nothing about Shawn, not a word. And though she understood her father would have some delicacy of feeling about the situation, she couldn’t stand having it between them. Unsaid, it was a wedge, and she needed to knock it loose.

“Dad.”

“Ha, nearly got her now. Bitch may be cracked, but she’s tough on the joinings.”

“Dad, you know I’m still seeing Shawn.”

Mick rapped his knuckles hard against the pipe and his tool squirted out of his hand like wet soap. Keeping his eyes lowered, he plucked it out again, then wiped it on his equally filthy trousers. “I suppose I do.”

“Are you ashamed of me?”

He worked another moment in silence. “Never have you done anything to shame me, Brenna. But the fact is, you’re stepping onto boggier ground than we’re swimming in. Working with you, respecting and admiring your skills is on the one hand. But on the other, you’re my daughter. It’s not an easy thing for a man to discuss such areas with his daughter.”