"Shut yer gob," Liam said. "Read me. Come on, Sean. Read me just a little."

The stairs creaked. "Conor's coming up," Sean said. "Ask him for a story."

But instead of Conor, their brother Brendan poked his head in the room. "Con says lights out," he said. "School tomorrow."

"Will Da be home tomorrow?" Liam asked.

Brendan forced a smile then shrugged. "Don't know, Li. But he'll be home soon."

Liam sat up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Is he all right? My teacher said the storm was bad."

Brendan sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed Liam's foot beneath the quilt, tickling it playfully. "Of course he'll be all right. Da can steer through any old storm." He glanced back and forth between Brian and Sean, a silent warning not to contradict him.

"Yeah," Brian agreed. "When I went out with Da last summer, he told me about a storm that had fifty-foot waves and wind so strong it could blow a man right off the deck. This isn't near as bad, Li."

Liam's expression shifted, now more worried. "How high are the waves?"

"They're just wee little waves," Brendan said. "Why don't you shove over and I'll tell you a story." He crawled in between Liam and Brian, leaning back against the headboard. "What story do you want to hear?"

The stories were a Quinn family tradition and when Seamus was home, he told a different tale nearly every night. They were wonderful stories of their legendary ancestors, the Mighty Quinns, those brave and clever men who vanquished evil. But when Seamus told the stories, the fables also featured scheming women. At first, Brian hadn't understood why the Quinns distrusted women so. But then he'd come to realize that the tales were laced with Seamus's own opinions about women-opinions based on their mother's desertion.