Tears of the Moon by Nora Roberts Page A

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.
    â€œYour 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.”
    â€œI’m just seeing to some things need seeing to.”
    â€œI see that.” He crouched down, then with a wheezy sigh, scooted under the car with her. “So you’ve nothing on your mind.”
    â€œMaybe I do.” She worked a few moments in silence, knowing he would let her gather her thoughts. “Could I ask you something?”
    â€œYou know you can.”
    â€œWhat 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.”
    â€œIt’s the first part I’m trying to figure here. What is it a man wants from a woman?”
    â€œOh. Well, now.” Flustered, and not a little panicked, he started to scoot out again. “I’ll get your mother.”
    â€œYou’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.”
    â€œAh . . . 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.”
    His face went pink, then white. “I’m not talking to you about sex, Mary Brenna, so get that idea right out of your head. I’m not having a conversation with my daughter about such a matter.”
    â€œWhy? I know you’ve had it, or I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
    â€œBe that as it may,” he said and closed his lips.
    â€œIf I were a son instead of a daughter, we could discuss it?”
    â€œYou’re not, so we aren’t, and that’s the end of it.” Now he folded his arms as well.
    Sitting as he was, he made Brenna think of an annoyed leprechaun, and she wondered if Jude had used him as a model for one of her sketches.
    â€œAnd how am I to get my mind around something if it can’t be discussed?”
    Since Mick didn’t give a hang about the logic of that at the moment, he simply scowled off into the distance. “If you must talk of such things, speak with your mother.”
    â€œAll right, all right, never mind, then.” She’d go at this from a different angle. Hadn’t he been the very one to teach her there was always more than one way to approach a job of work? “Tell me something else.”
    â€œOn another topic entirely?”
    â€œYou could say that.” She smiled at him, patting his leg. “I’m wondering, if there was something you wanted, had wanted for some time, what would you do about