“These are the tears of the moon. They are my longing for you. Take them, and me.”

But she shed her own tears as she turned away from him, denied him, refused him. And the pearls glowed in the grass and the glowing became moonflowers.

And it was Brenna who picked them, by night, when their delicate white petals were open. She laid them on the little stoop by the cottage door, leaving them there for Shawn because she lacked the courage to take them inside. And to offer.

The lack of sleep and surplus of dreams left her holloweyed and broody the next day. After Mass she piddled around, taking apart the engine of the old lawn mower, changing the points and plugs on her truck, tuning it though it didn’t need tuning.

She was under her mother’s old car, changing the oil, when she saw her father’s boots.

“Your ma said I should come out here and see what’s weighing on your brain before you take it into your head to strip the engine out of this old tank.”

“I’m just seeing to some things need seeing to.”

“I see that.” He crouched down, then with a wheezy sigh, scooted under the car with her. “So you’ve nothing on your mind.”

“Maybe I do.” She worked a few moments in silence, knowing he would let her gather her thoughts. “Could I ask you something?”

“You know you can.”

“What is it a man wants?”

Mick pursed his lips, pleased to see how quick and competent his daughter’s hands were with a wrench. “Well, a good woman, steady work, a hot meal, and a pint at the end of day satisfies most.”

“It’s the first part I’m trying to figure here. What is it a man wants from a woman?”

“Oh. Well, now.” Flustered, and not a little panicked, he started to scoot out again. “I’ll get your mother.”

“You’re a man, she’s not.” Brenna caught his leg before he could escape. He was wiry, but she had a good grip. “I want, from a man’s own mind, what it is he’s looking for in a woman.”

“Ah . . . well . . . common sense,” he said a bit too cheerily. “That’s a fine trait. And patience. A man needs patience from a woman, truth be known. Time was, he wanted her to make him a nice comfortable home, but in today’s world—and as I have five daughters I have to live in today’s world—that’s more a give-and-take sort of arrangement. A helpmate.” He grabbed the word like a rope tossed over the edge of a very high cliff with a very narrow ledge that was rapidly crumbling under his feet. “A man wants a helpmate, a life’s companion.”

Brenna gave herself a little push so she could sit out beside the car. She kept her hand on his ankle, for she sensed he’d bolt if she gave him the chance. “I think we both know I’m not talking about common sense and patience and companionship.”