When he was just a little boy, Samuel Knight bought flowers for his mother every Tuesday when he came home from school.

On Tuesdays, Roger usually had audiences back-to-back during the day and would come home later in the evening. So, mother and son would seize the day and do something fun amongst themselves, without input from the grumpy and serious father. It was a secret he kept between the six-year-old boy and his mother, something for just themselves.

His mother was the centre of his world in his first years of life. He cared for his father, yes, but he was always absent, and whenever he was around, he would be full of questions and demands that seemed arbitrary to him. He was a momma's boy.

Mrs. Knight was a blonde, with a thin, wiry frame and a tall build. She used to wear thin cotton dresses even in the fall, commenting that she would never feel too cold. She looked like summer in person, with laugh lines on the edges of her lips and a bright shine in her green eyes. More distinctly she was an avid lover of flowers, her favourite being those she kept on the backyard with patient labour.

So, every Tuesday Sam would bring his mother flowers. Nothing special, mostly some colourful weeds that grew around the hedges on the back of his elementary school, thinking they would look nice on their little garden. The woman would thank him with a warm hug and a smile, and they would make their merry way home.

When his mother passed away, when he was a little short of seven, he continued to bring the weeds home every Tuesday, even after Roger demolished the garden. They would wilt on the kitchen table, and he would trash them in the evening, before his father arrived. Whenever he looked at the darkening leaves, his heart would fall because he had no one he was waiting for to come home and gaze at them.

Eventually, his father gave him a bicycle and an allowance, so he would bring better specimens to his mother's grave, sourced from the local grocery store. He would sit down and talk about what was going on in his life, happy to see the afternoon pass him by. His mother was the only person he bought flowers for in his whole life and he was not sure whether that saddened him or made him happier each week.

One day, the day before his mother's birthday, the year he entered college, he decided that she deserved for him to walk an extra mile and source a proper bouquet from a nice shop. So, he inquired from the grocer where he could find such a place with a good selection and he replied with a name that stuck in his mind all morning.

"The Violet Bushel." He had replied. "It's on Nassau Street, by the post office. I bought my wife some flowers our last anniversary, they're great."

Sam had made his way down to the location, a quiet corner decorated brightly with flowers, vines, and leaves. Then his eyes fell on a girl, about his age, wearing a green apron, and the corner of his lips turned upwards.

She stood over an array of blossoming flowers, set in one corner of the store, near the register. Her silky hair was tied neatly on a bun, the apron was tied on top of a bulky brown sweater, and the flare jeans elongated her frame. A watering can was in one of her hands and a pair of clippers in the other, as she examined carefully the plant. She smiled as she worked and, when her eyes turned to his, they were as bright as his neighbour's daffodils.

She waved him over and sheepishly he came. "Hello! Welcome to The Violet Bushel. May I help you?"

"Er, hi. I'm Knight." He cut quickly, cheeks flaring pink at his quickness. "I mean, I'm Sam. Knight."

"I know." She grinned, beautifully, if he may add. "We went to the same school for years. You were on my English class in sophomore year."

His face blanched. "I-I'm so sorry! I…"

She chuckled. "Don't worry. I don't remember everyone, either. I'm Virginia, Ginny. Are you looking for something specific?"

"Oh, right." The blond boy came to himself. "I need to buy some violets. Something I can plant on a garden."

Her eyes enlarged and a curious expression overtook her features. "That's awfully specific. I'm glad you came to me. Follow me inside and I'll show you some options."

He nodded, following her behind the counter into a small greenhouse. The air smelled of soil and earth, a scent he didn't think he would enjoy. Flowers blossomed from each and every corner and soft trickling water could be heard lightly leaving him with a euphoric feeling in the pit of his stomach. His eyes trailed her looking over each of the plots with a cursory look, before stopping in front of a large pot with fully-grown violets.

Her fingers delicately traced the petals and Sam could not stop himself from watching.

"There you have it. Violets usually grow well in our climate, so I don't think you'll have much trouble." Ginny says. "I'd recommend these, they are an African variety. They are very lovely in the Spring, and are better resistant to the sun and the heat. However, it is important that you keep them somewhere moist or with plenty access to water. Don't transfer between pots until some of the leaves start to wilt, rooting is important with these flowers."

He listened wholeheartedly as she explained the procedures with the utmost depth and care, eyes lighting up and fingers stroking the stem, petals and dirt. When, after almost ten minutes of discussion, she realized she were rambling her cheeks began to warm.

"Sorry." The clerk mutters. "I get a bit carried away."

"It's fine." Sam replied. "I'd like to hear more about floriculture. I'm thinking of keeping a garden, but I'm pants at it. Some help would be great. That is, if you'd like to share your knowledge with me."

He was dumbstruck by his own shamelessness. He knows nothing about plants, and would probably fail pathetically if he tried to grow anything more complex than a low-maintenance cactus. Besides, his father dug a pool and built an outdoor kitchen in their backyard. He would not be able to cultivate anything there even if he tried.

A startled expression settled on her face, however, and he knew he had made the right decision when Ginny agreed readily. "I'd love to."

Sam scolded himself for his stupidity. He did not think of a place to take her. She cannot go on a date without a place in mind.

Luckily, she pointed out the window to the shop across the street. "That's a coffee shop over there. It's pretty good."

Sam grinned. "Would you mind Saturday at noon?"

"Sure." she answered quickly. She handed him the violets, fingers brushing against his for only a moment. "That'll be fifteen dollars."

He reached into his pocket, exchanging the money with a shy smile before slipping out the door, the bell ringing in reminder of his date tomorrow.

Ginny is beautiful in more ways than one.

The coffee date had gone well. So well that now she had driven him to the lake just outside the city. He had brought a stereo and old static plagued songs hummed over the radio. She smiled and wore a white dress that fluttered in the wind, the first fallen leaves of the season catching on the hem.

All his life he had been without consistent love or attention but now she was showering him with her own. Her light talk and her bright, bashful smile were all he needed to see to let himself go into the cold whirlpool he is being taken away.

"Why did you come get flowers?" She asked curiously. "Who were they for?"

He flushed. "I, er… When I was a kid, I used to give my mother these purple weeds that grew along the sidewalk. It was her birthday that week, so…"

"You bought a purple flower for her." She finished with a sigh. "That's so sweet, Sam."

He shook his head. "Some people make it easy."

Ginny smiled indulgently. "Wise words from someone as young as you."

The blond boy shook his head. "As much as people love to play that wisdom comes with age, I think that wisdom comes more from experiencing life and all it entails and someone can experience a lot in just nineteen years of it."

She chuckles, putting her head on his shoulder which caused his heart to drop. "See, wise words."

Her light and brightness would continue to run through the course of his life. It would flow through his veins as she became more connected to him. Lovers now, though the romance was newly afresh.

Sam had never felt so loved. Loneliness seemed to fade as she awoke in his bed the next morning wrapped in sheets of cotton.

His arms were wrapped around Ginny. The rays of golden sunlight were shining through the partly open window. His lips pressed against her neck causing her to softly sigh.

"What do you want to do this morning?" He murmured.

She giggled. "Nothing."

"I'm fine with that." The college student laughed, pulling his girlfriend closer to him.

Outside, laughter filled the air as the neighbourhood children laughed along some game they were playing. The Summer was coming to an end, and so the energy of theirs seemed boundless, hoping to seize every opportunity while the weather was still warm.

The pair of lovers smiled placidly at the noise.

"That reminds me of when I was a girl." Ginny comments, twirling the sheets on her index finger. "I liked to sing as I played, though."

"Do you sing?" He asked, suddenly interested.

"I can sing. I just can't sing well." She chuckled, self-conscient.

He smiled warmly. "That's OK. I like singing in the shower, and I don't really care how I sound. It's just for ourselves."

"What would you sing?" The girl asked.

Sam grinned. "Oh, my darling. Oh, my darling. Oh, my darling, Clementine."

Ginny listened to her boyfriend sing, his voice echoing sweet melodies in her head and peacefully lulling her to a state between sleep and consciousness.

The Violet Bushel gained one more regular customer in the form of Sam Knight who would stop by as his girlfriend worked. He would watch as Ginny danced around the flower shop, watering blossoms and digging in dirt, and, after each and every shift she had, he would buy her flowers. He would approach the registry with a smirk and a hand full of bills.

"I'm inquiring on buying some daffodils?" He grinned.

She playfully rolled her eyes. "Who're they for?"

He smirked. "I'd much rather not say."

The girl would smile widely and, once the money was exchanged, he would bashfully hold out the bouquet to her, which she took with a grin and a kiss to his cheek.

She was so lucky to have him.

Every moment Sam spent with Ginny was a moment of joy in his life, filled with love to each of its creeping corners. She was brighter than the stars the two of them gazed on each night. She smiled wider than a man with an orange slice between his lips.

Spring was coming towards its end and summer was beginning to fade inwards. His love for she never did seem to fade instead growing like the plants she cared for so gently. He was the seedling, her love was the water and love bloomed beautifully, gracing the world with colour.

Now she was teaching him to garden and he learned diligently by her hand.

"Sam, hand me the watering can?"

He did as she asked, watching as the water spilled from the small openings. "These are the morning glories, aren't they?"

"Yup." She responded with a loving smile, as if she was talking about her own children. "They need to be kept evenly moist in order for them to root themselves quicker."

Ginny lived at the flower shop, on a loft tucked on top of the commercial space, which belonged to her grandmother. The kitchenette that she occupied was larger than his room at the frat house, but it was a fraction of his father's house in the suburbs.

Yet, he never felt cramped or cluttered over there: it was more welcoming and, frankly, more beautiful, in spite of the expensive decorators Roger hires to erase the mark of his wife off their living space.

It was quaint and sunny, and it smelled like the cold and wet wind of the forests nearby. A garden thrived in the rooftop, and Sam had even set up a small arrangement of flowers that he had begun to sprout, a new addition to her garden and they grew alongside hers in a way that brought him happiness, weirdly enough.

"I love your garden." He commented, looking around and imagining how nice it would be if they brought two lawn chairs upstairs. "It always feels like home."

"Not my garden, Sam. Our garden." The young woman intervened.

He smiled in response.

Comfort was a gift Sam Knight had rarely known.

Yes, he was rich and yes, he grew up rich. However, as painstakingly simple as it was, no amount of money could buy love or affection, something his father had lacked, and his mother was not around anymore to compensate for it.

However, Ginny slowly introduced him to the idea that not everybody was cold or shed away from touch. One of Sam's favourite things that she did was to watch the sunset, backs against the warm concrete floor in the rooftop. It was enough to harbour small bits of affection but not enough to make him uncomfortable.

"Do you know what the Greeks thought about the sun setting?" The blond questions, a tranquil smile on his face.

She looked at him curiously. "What did they think?"

He took her hand, guiding it with the arc of the sunset. The feeling of intimate touch caused both of them to flush.

"When the Titans were in power, they believed that Helios was the titan of the sun and Selene was the titan of the moon. They controlled the functions of the sun and the moon, sunset and sunrise." He explained. "When the titans reign was over, Apollo and his twin sister Artemis were then left to rule over the sun and the moon."

"That'd be fun." Ginny said, a chuckle puncturing her phrase. "To control the moon."

He nodded, turning to face her on the floor. "We can be them. Although, personally, I think you're more of a sun person than a moon person."

She grinned, pecking him once on the lips. "I agree. Samuel, the god of the moon."

"Virginia, goddess of the sun."

The sun set before them, the line between sun and moon thinning, the ability to see both a beautiful sight to behold.

Even when Sam was down or, perhaps, he found that his thoughts were folding in on themselves, Ginny would press light kisses against his skin and all those thoughts would go away. They would sink back into a place where they would be undisturbed.

His girlfriend would fill his heart and mind with happy thoughts and simple things that forced all unsettling things that may lurk in the corners of his mind. She would read sweet stories or even better, sing him soft lullabies she remembered her grandmother singing to her from a long time ago, back when she was but a kid.

"Oh, my darling. Oh, my darling."

By now the blond man knew all the words to the simple tune and he would murmur them along with her.

"Oh, my darling, Clementine. Oh, my darling. Oh, my darling. Oh, my darling, Clementine."

Love was kind.

He was beginning to realize that.

What more could he say? Week after week, Sam continued to visit his mother's grave, and he continued to find a place for him next to Ginny, at that small flower shop downtown.

His flowers soon bloomed right beside hers. He would soon get a key to the front door and would know all her neighbours as if they were his own. Sam would visit her shop every day and flowers would soon be all that he could care about and he would know the difference between annuals and perennials.

Life was perfect.

She had made it perfect.

Sam stood above the flower shop, a paintbrush in his mouth as he stared at the freshly painted sign above the shop. She stood below him, gripping the base of the latter, her new silver ring tapping against the coarse wood.

"I think it looks good, don't you think?" She asked.

"Yeah." He replied, stepping down the latter and placing a kiss to her cheek in self-satisfaction. "It does."

In his neat cursive, read the new name for their now jointly-owned shop. The Garden of Knight, a surname they shared gladly.

In the end, Sam became neither a lawyer nor a basketball player. He found happiness being a shopkeeper, and having his heart full of love for many years to come.