Forget-me-nots, Blue Violets and Daisies

By 1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: All the characters and references to the show "NUMB3RS" are the property of Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falacci, CBS and the Scott Brothers. I am not making any profit from this and no infringement is intended. However, my original characters and story line are mine

Spoilers: Refers to characters from my story "Inner Peace".

A/N: Happy New Year

Untitled

Forget me not

When I am gone.

My memories in stone.

When day is done

And you are all alone

Forget me not.

With each rising moon

And the setting of the sun

Forget me not.

As you grow old

The days, they just seem longer.

Remember with each passing moment

My love for thee is stronger.

Author Unknown

The Fairview Cemetery in Altadena was only ten miles from his home in Pasadena but this evening it had taken Alan over twenty-five minutes to make the journey. Countless parties were being held to usher in the New Year and many people were out picking up last minute decorations and food trays. He and his sons were hosting their own party later in the evening, which also accounted for his late arrival at the cemetery. He had spent the day preparing for the party but finally had to break away so that he could get to the cemetery before nightfall and had grumbled at every stop light that he had encountered along the way.

Alan stood silently by the car, letting his eyes pick out the now familiar path that would take him to his beloved Margaret. His gaze drifted somberly over the rows of tombstones that dotted the small hillside until he spied the marble stone that marked his wife's grave.

It never ceased to amaze him that just beyond the walled cemetery the ever present hustle and bustle of the living continued on and yet here there was a surreal peacefulness. Tall buildings and rooftops were visible over the walls and vapor trails from a multitude of planes crisscrossed the blue sky above him. Outside of the cemetery the city hummed with life but the sound of voices and the rumble of traffic were distant; kept at bay by the cement wall surrounding the graveyard. He cocked his head, listening for noises within the walled expanse and glanced to his left when several sprinklers came to life. Even though it was December, the grass was still green and the surrounding trees were full of abundant foilage.

A scraping sound caught his attention and he shifted his stance in search of the noise. An Amazon parrot made its way slowly across the top of the cement wall; its sharp claws scraping against the stone. The birds vibrant green feathers and yellow head stood out in stark contrast to the gray walls and the dark colors of the surrounding tombstones. The large bird held a persimmon in its beak and came to a sudden stop to eat the fruit. Alan narrowed his eyes searching the Persimmon tree near the wall; parrots normally traveled in pairs and sure enough, halfway up the tree, another one was enjoying the tasty fruit. He was a little surprised to see them here; at this time of day it was normal to see large flocks of parrots flying to their roosting trees for the night.

"I guess those two wanted a snack first." Alan chuckled with a shrug. He was relieved that the normally squawking birds had chosen to remain silent. Perhaps they were tired of talking but regardless of the reason, he was glad they were silent.

A light breeze swirled around him, feathering his hair and adding a slight chill to the air. Sixty-seven degrees wasn't that cold but darkness was approaching and pushing the warmth of the sun away from him. He shivered and zipped up his jacket; thankful that he had remembered to bring it along. The elderly man glanced at the sun, noting its low position in the sky and started forward; sunset was 4:54 p.m. and that just left him fifty-four minutes before it disappeared behind the Los Angeles skyline.

Shadows cast from the waning sunlight began to darken around him as he nimbly made his way between the rows of graves but they didn't frighten him on this last day of the year but instead, brought him comfort; this small cemetery had become his sanctuary.

He clutched a small bouquet of blue flowers in his right hand and a canvas tote bag in the other. Every now and then the sound of clinking glass could be heard as he wove his way between the stones so Alan slowed his gait a little, taking care not to break the items within the bag but even at the slower pace he soon found himself standing in front of Margaret's grave.

Alan ran his fingertips lovingly over the cold marble before lowering himself to the ground in front of it. He slipped the tote bag from his shoulder and absently set it by his side as he read the inscription on the stone. Alan didn't have to read it; he knew it by heart; Margaret Eppes, Beloved Wife and Mother, her date of birth……and of death. His name and date of birth were inscribed next to it, in preparation for the time that he would join her.

With loving care he placed the bouquet of blue flowers on the ground in front of the stone.

"Forget-me-nots…….your favorite." he mumbled softly. "Your favorite flowers from me, that is." Alan amended with a wry smile. "You're the only person that I have ever known that had three favorite flowers and I can still remember what you told me about them."

Momentarily distracted by a noise overhead he leaned back on his hands to watch a Zebra Finch flit in and out of the nearby trees; its song echoing sadly through the silent tombstones. Normally it's vivid orange beak and brightly colored feathers were breath-taking to behold but they were not quite as vibrant in the diminishing sunlight.

Alan's eyes drifted back to the stone as he shifted his position and folded his legs beneath him. "If I remember correctly, you said that the forget-me-not stood for true love and memories and that they became your favorite the very first time that I gave them to you…..because I was your true love." he paused and wiped the moisture from the corners of his eyes. "Of course I didn't know that when I gave them to you," he confessed, "I just thought it was a pretty flower and that you would like it."

He sighed and bowed his head, adding in a near whisper. "I will always love you Margaret and our memories are precious to me."

Alan picked up the bouquet again and absently moved it around until it lay against the center of the stone. When he was satisfied with its location he cleared his throat and began to speak again.

"The second flower was the Blue Violet and you said it represented watchfulness and faithfulness. You also said that it reflected the inner strength of the young man that had given it to you and that he would always be there for you." He smiled sadly. "You were right of course, that is a perfect description of our son and I can only marvel at your insight."

"The third flower is the simple unassuming little Daisy. Except the young man that always gave it to you is far from simple; complex would be a more accurate term. The Daisy, you said, represented innocence, loyal love and purity of heart and once again you were right…this does describe our son perfectly."

Alan sighed. "The three of us chose these flowers for you on our own and it amazes me how closely our choices reflect who we are." His voice was thick with emotion as he continued. "It was your love, my darling, which helped make us who we are today." he smiled wistfully. "I have to tell you that I've lost count of how many times I have opened a book to read and discovered one of these flowers pressed between its pages. They meant so much to you….and now to me too, that I just leave them where you left them and try to remember when you laughed and said it was your favorite."

Sadly, he bowed his head and thought of her funeral. If any of their family and friends had thought it odd to see one blue forget-me-not, a blue violet and a single white daisy lying atop the casket amid all of the red roses, they never mentioned it. Perhaps they had seen who had placed them there and had understood the love and devotions of the three men that had brought them.

Suddenly he heard soft footfalls coming from the graveyard behind him and he twisted around to see who it was but his face broke into a smile when he recognized the two men coming towards him.

"Hey Dad." Do called out softly.

"Sorry we're late." Charlie added, as he sat down next to his father. The young man leaned over and placed a bouquet of white daisies on the left side of the forget-me-nots.

Don sat down on the other side of his Dad and placed a small basket of blue violets beside of Alan's flowers.

Alan smiled sadly at the little basket of violets and the bouquet of white daisies. There had been no doubt in his mind that his sons would have brought any other flowers with them tonight.

He closed his eyes and could picture one of the many hikes that his family had taken when the boys were small. They had come across a field of wildflowers and both boys had picked some of them for their mother. Don had returned with a handful of deep blue violets, exclaiming how pretty the color was. He had rolled his eyes a few minutes later when his six year old brother had returned with a handful of daisies and had gone into an explanation of how The Golden Ratio could be found in the flower and that math was natures way of communicating with them…..and besides, he had added defensively when Don had laughed at him….they were pretty. Margaret had laughed and hugged them both, proclaiming that both flowers were her favorite. From that day forward, no matter what the occasion happened to be, both boys always managed to get their specific flowers in every arrangement they had given their mother….as had he." Alan realized with a quiet chuckle.

Five minutes passed in silence as the Eppes men lost themselves in their memories, each one reliving special moments with the woman buried beneath them.

Finally, Don broke the silence. "Did you bring it Dad?"

Alan grinned as he opened the tote bag and pulled out a bottle of champagne and three champagne glasses. He popped open the cork and paused as the sound echoed loudly through the quiet cemetery, prompting the three of them to look around guiltily in case they had disturbed any other visitors but no one else was in sight so Alan poured each of them a drink then raised his glass in the air.

"To Margaret." He said quietly.

"To Mom." Charlie and Don intoned simultaneously.

Moisture glistened in their eyes as the glasses clinked together and they solemnly drank the bubbly liquid.

Alan filled the glasses one more time and met each of his son's eyes in the dwindling light. "To a new year." he spoke quietly as he looked over the rims of his glasses. "And let's make it a safer year. You two had a lot of close calls this past year." Alan pointed to his oldest son. "You got stabbed and then both of you," his finger wavered between them, "were chased across the Mohave by two mad men and had close encounters with a rattler and a pack of coyotes."

Charlie shifted uncomfortably and looked away; he didn't need any reminders of their ordeal. Even though it had been almost six months since their desert adventure, he was still having a few nightmares from his encounter with Rico Martinez. He looked back and raised his glass. "To a safer year."

"I'll second that." Don agreed quickly, hoping to halt any further discussion of their desperate flight across the sands. Juan Chavez's trial would be beginning soon and he couldn't suppress a shiver as he recalled how cold the man's eyes had been as he had stood over him, gun in hand and finger on the trigger, ready to kill not only him but little five year old Samantha Wilkins as well.

"Amen to that." Alan agreed emphatically as once again he tipped his glass to meet those of his sons and at the same time upended the champagne bottle, letting the remainder of the liquid soak into the soil.

The sun began to slip below the skyline prompting the men to quickly return the glasses and the empty champagne bottle to the bag.

"We'd better get going." Charlie said, rising to his feet and hanging the tote bag over his shoulder. "We still have to get the snacks ready for the party. Everyone will start arriving around eight."

"I know." Alan said softly as he clamored to his feet but as he turned to leave he whispered. "Happy New Year Margaret."

"Happy New Year Mom." Don said quietly; his brother echoing the same sentiment a second later.

Twilight had fallen as they made their way back to the cars.

"Donnie did you see the Happy New Year's card we got from Walt?" Alan asked as they threaded their way between the tombstones.

"No." Don answered with a slight shake of his head. "What's he been up to?"

"Well, he wrote that he and his ex-wife have decided to give it another try….and that he loves being a grandfather."

Don rolled his eyes and glanced at his brother. "Here we go."

"Hey." Alan retorted defensively. "I'm just telling you what Walt wrote in the card. Can I help it if it brings up a subject that is dear to my heart?"

"Sounds like a conspiracy to me." Charlie mumbled, handing the tote bag back to his father as they reached their cars.

Don snickered as he opened the door to his SUV. "You got that right bro."

"By the way, Angela called this morning and said that she and Jess have decided to let Sammy stay up to celebrate the New Year with us tonight." Alan said as he placed the tote bag in his car. Samantha's parents had become close friends of the Eppes and little Sammy had become a "surrogate" granddaughter to Alan; a role which the older man had embraced wholeheartedly. "They're going to make sure that she has a nap this evening and then they'll be over around 10:00."

"Glad to hear it, she'll really liven up the party." Don chuckled as he closed the car door and buckled up. The driver's window powered down and he added. "I'm going to pick up Robin and a case of beer and then we'll be over to help set things up." With a wave of his hand and a "see you later" he drove away.

"I'll pick up the meat tray from the deli on my way home Dad. Amita and Larry should already be at the house working on the vegetable tray." Charlie informed him as he settled behind the steering wheel of his Prius. His Dad didn't answer and he hesitated before closing the door. "Are you okay?" he asked; his brows knitting together with concern.

Alan still stood beside his car; seemingly lost in thought, but turned at the worried tone of his son's voice.

"I'm fine Charlie….just reminiscing." He climbed into his own car and started the engine. "I'll be right behind you."

Charlie nodded and pulled away slowly; keeping an eye on his father in the rear view mirror.

Alan glanced toward his wife's grave, no longer visible and shrouded in darkness.

"Your forget-me-not holds true Margaret. You are my one "true love" and I will always cherish our memories."

"Happy New Year my love." He added as he drove away and followed Charlie out of the cemetery. Margaret was no longer physically with them, this was truth, but she was always in their hearts.

As he drove home, an instrumental version of the tune, Auld Lang Zang, began to play and he sang along with the chorus.

"We'll take a cup o'kindness yet, for auld lang zang."

By the time Alan pulled into the driveway of the craftsman and parked behind Amita's car his mood had lightened considerably. Now that Charlie and Amita were officially engaged this just might be the year that his grandchildren would make their appearance…..and if Donnie would propose to Robin the odds of that happening would definitely increase.

Thinking of the possibilities Alan's smile broadened as he opened the front door of the craftsman and stepped inside.

Finis