Some people are born under a harvest moon, or another astrological sign. Perhaps Seeley Booth had been born under the influence of Aztec Xochiquetzal, Irish Clíodhna, or Egyptian Hathor; goddesses of love Brennan knew well from her anthropological studies. Over the years of their 'just partners' friendship which had deepened into so much more, Brennan had learned that he had a sweet romantic bent, but she didn't realize how ingrained this tendency was. It seems her husband had always been an incurable romantic.
The unexpected return of Jared and Booth's mother Marianne evoked mixed reactions from her sons. Being the younger child, Jared was a bit more happy go lucky, with fewer dark childhood memories. He'd welcomed her back more readily than Booth, finding it easier to accept her excuses, just glad to see her after all these years.
Booth had always given his mother an enormous benefit of the doubt, believing she'd left to protect herself without any chance of returning. To learn than she had helped raise another man's kids, when her own still needed her, was a bitter pill to swallow. Her happy assertion that she'd followed his career and seen his success, did little to soothe his hurt or quiet the raging accusations he wanted to shout at her. "WHY didn't you come back for us? Your own sons needed you!"
His forgiving soul had eventually reasserted itself, and Booth buried his disappointment enough to walk her down the aisle as she married Reggie, obviously a good man who loved her. Their "Continental" dance around the Mighty Hut's living room and the sight of his old lime green snout-nosed Philly Phanatic in Christine's arms reminded him of happier moments with Marianne. Accepting her for the clay footed human being she was, Booth graciously rose above the situation and reminded Brennan why she loved this big hearted man so much.
Visiting them from time to time, his mother spoiled Christine and tried to make up for the past in her own way. Talking with Brennan over cups of Earl Grey tea, she also shared a few stories of Booth's childhood. The most significant to Temperance involved long-ago warming spring days, when an eight-year old Seeley had often followed Jared through the front door after school and offered his mother thrust a fistful of wildflowers.
Marianne recalled fondly that the stubby-stemmed tiny blooms had been a riot of color, and Brennan smiled back, remembering the botany lessons Max had shared with her when he had the time to walk her home from school, once Russ joined Burtonville Junior High football squad's afternoon practices.
Knowing that Pennsylvania's wild flowers weren't too different from those of Ohio, Brennan imagined that Booth walking home from school would have picked the dainty little yellow flowers of clover-like Yellow Wood Sorrel Oxalis stricta, and purple kamias Averrhoa bilimbi. He'd have pulled some pink matchweed Phyla nodiflora blooms, the tiny white flowers of Common chickweed Stellaria media, and purple or pink trumpet shaped Henbit flowers, Lamium amplexicuale. (A member of the mint family, her dad had said). And most likely her favorite, the 'bunny-faced' blue spreading dayflower,Commelina diffusa. Noticing her far-off gaze, Marianne had asked what she was thinking, and Brennan had recounted her father's frequent child-sized science lectures.
On a more recent visit, hearing about Pop's passing, Marianne grew quiet. She wiped a tear that trickled down her cheek and put her hands in her lap. She spoke so quietly that Brennan had to listen carefully to catch her words. Several years after taking in Booth and Jared, Pops had been selected to represent the Philadephia Police Department at a week-long Mid-Atlantic Crime Prevention Task Force Consortium in New York in mid-February. This critical meeting to combat urban street crime had coincided with Valentine's Day and twelve year old Seeley worried that his grandfather's absence would sadden Grams. His paper route had given him some spending money, and he hit upon a solution to cheer her up. Shouldering his backpack after school, he'd hopped on his bicycle and pedaled down the street.
His grandmother noticed but frequently sent him to the corner market for milk or bread, and decided to see what he was up to. Twenty minutes later, her older grandson re-entered the house, grabbed an apple, poured a glass of juice, grabbed a handful of cookies and headed upstairs to do homework. The old lady held her counsel and waited. An hour later as she was ironing in the living room, she heard him rummaging in the basement, and pretended not to notice his stealthy return through the kitchen.
At dinnertime, she called the two boys to the table. They trooped in with huge grins on their faces, hands thrust behind their backs. Jared produced a card and a vase, and Seeley carefully handed her a bouquet of vibrant red rose buds.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Grams!" they chorused.
"Mr. McCarthy said the buds would open soon,"" Seeley told her hopefully. "They aren't quite as pretty right now, but he said they will last longer this way."
" "How did you get these flowers home?" Grams said she asked him. "Hid them in my backpack!" he told her proudly." Grams thought he was quite clever to come up with that idea."
"Of course, she assured the boys they were perfect, and her preference," Marianne said softly. "Margaret told me that story the last time I called to check on the boys before she learned she had cancer. I should have gone back for her funeral, but it had been so long, and I didn't know what to say, any more than I did when I came back before our wedding. I made a mess of being their mother, but somehow, they turned out okay. Thanks mainly to Hank and their Gram, rest their souls."
She looked up wistfully. "My son turned out to be a good man, didn't he? I think he is the best of Joe and me. He's protective and caring. Both he and Jared are brave, served their country, just like Pops and their dad; but got some of his bad tendencies too. The drinking, the temper. But Seeley's more serious, always was; looked out for me, for his brother, trying to shield us from Joe's rages. I'm glad he's got you, Temperance. You've made him happy, given him peace. You've built a good life together, your home, little Christine, both your kids," she smiled, gesturing at Brennan's rounded abdomen.
"Yes, we have. He completes me. I guess we complete each other," Brennan said simply. "He brings me flowers and roses often, mostly unexpectedly. Calls them 'just because' bouquets," she told Booth's mother.