She was painfully shy. Roll call was a nightmare; when you were fourteen and absolutely hated your name, having it read out in front of the entire class was humiliating. She wished she could hide in a corner like the shrinking violet they called her.

The new boy’s eyes were upon her.  She supposed embarrassment was written all over her face. The minute he had entered the classroom, she had known he was special; it was there in his soft brown eyes and in his quiet manner. Layton – he had an interesting name. Except for her, everyone in the class had an interesting name.

Home, she breathed, opening the gate into her oasis. The garden was her refuge; there she was at peace. Behind that garden gate, all anxiety and self consciousness left her and weeding relaxed her. The garden’s peace soothed her soul. It was ironic then, that the name she hated was from the garden.  If only her Nan had been named for any other flower, so the kids couldn’t call her ‘Shrinking.’

“Meet Joel and his son Layton,” Violet’s father called as he pushed open the gate.  “Joel is the new H.R. manager; they’ve bought old Mr James’s house.” Violet’s blue eyes encountered smiling brown eyes.

“We’ve met,” Layton said. ”I’ll keep Violet company, if that’s alright.”  Dropping to his knees beside her, his deft fingers began searching for weeds amongst the Alyssum and Sweet William.

“Do you like gardens?” Violet asked shyly. Layton reached over and brushed dirt from the tip of her nose.

“Love them.  How did you get the name Violet? They’re my favorite flowers.  So small they hide in corners, but their scent is beautiful, you can’t miss them for long.” Perhaps her name wasn’t so bad after all, Violet thought.

“It’s not an interesting name like Layton.  My Nan was called Violet.”

“Our parents must have known something,” he laughed. “Layton means herb garden in old English. Perhaps you could help me get my new garden up and running, Mr James didn’t seem to have been much of a gardener.”