The girl is sitting on the couch in the dorm's front room, textbook in one hand, and glorious red hair twirling in the other. She's beautiful, Jonathan thinks.
He watches her a moment, waiting until she gets to a stopping place. She smiles up at him when he says her name, "Martha", and returns her borrowed class notes.
He holds the daisies behind his back.
He's different than the other boys she's dated. He's a man. Mature and strong; she feels protected in his presence, but not belittled. He treats her like she's somebody special.
The girl who buys her textbook when she's done with it smiles as the flattened flower slips out of the pages. The flower is forgotten; Jonathan and Martha's relationship is preserved.
The ring belonged to his maternal grandmother, who would have adored Martha Clark, and welcomed her into the family. He only hopes the Clarks will someday find him worthy of their daughter.
He tells her he wants them to build strong roots, and that she is the loveliest bloom in any garden. A rose blush flushes her cheeks, and she says yes.
Jonathan grips her hand tightly as she sleeps, trying to lend her some of his strength. He wishes they could afford the kind of doctor they need. He feels like a failure as a husband.
He pulls the baby's breath out of every arrangement, and throws it away. He waits for her to wake up, so he can tell her what she already knows.
The sight of little Lana, a smiling fairy "pwincess", makes up for her aunt. The girl waves her sparkly wand, and Martha can almost believe in wishes.
The tulip petals are soft and silky as a baby's skin. The stems are sturdy, and don't get crushed when the truck turns over.
When they find the boy in the wreckage, the flowers are trampled in the mud.
She just wishes he would talk. He's full of grins, and even giggles, but he hasn't said a word to them yet.
Sighing at the clumps of dirt marking Clark's journey into the house, she's stopped in her tracks at what she sees next. Her little boy, eight foot tree, roots and all, in his hand. "Pretty, Mama" he says, smiling, holding it out to her.
He imagines Lex is as smooth and sleek as fruit just off the vine. He wants to touch that firm flesh, press it for juiciness and taste it for tartness. Lex clearly is the prize-winning growth.
Clark finds himself on bended knee, holding out the box of white tulips in supplication. Lex leans down to take them from him, and does not let go when their hands brush.
Chloe and Wally fly in for the nuptials, but Wally disappears in a flash when the dancing starts. For a runner, it's surprising he has two left feet.
Martha and Jonathan twirl in the moonlight, and watch their son, in love.
"You can't be there every day, and you know he hated showing weakness."
Lex is surprised how profoundly he is affected by the man's death. It had taken a long time for Jonathan to accept him, but finally, Lex felt like Clark's father loved him - more than his own did.
"He was a good man, Clark," Lex says, pulling his partner closer. "So are you."
They tried to give her a life post Jonathan. The Kent farm had been turned into a bed and breakfast. Caroline comes home with a hotel management degree, and helps her mother run the place.
It's a sunny day when Clark replants the old Bradford pear, to give his parents some shade. "Pretty, Mama" he says, holding Lex's hand.