Blurb
An Imago Series short story
When Jack receives a phone call from a colleague in the southeast of Tasmania with news of a newfound butterfly habitat, he and Lawson head off on another adventure.
It’s not an easy trek to the location. The Franklin-Gordon National Park is famous for wild rivers, rainforests, and rocky cliff faces, and they’ll need to hike and abseil—in the dead of winter—to get to the site.
It’s no ordinary expedition because this is no ordinary butterfly, and Jack and Lawson aren’t an ordinary couple.
Join Jack and Lawson on another quest in this short story of extraordinary butterflies and extraordinary love.
Chapter One
Jack
The wind was howling outside, sleet was coming down in a flurry of different angles, and I was grateful to be inside with a warm fire. Rosemary was asleep by the hearth and Brennan was on the couch, perched up with his lap table and a colouring book, his pencils in a perfectly organised row.
He was all of four years old now, with a better vocab than most adults. He wore little sweaters all the time and tidy pants, his hair combed to perfection, his manners as sweet as he was.
God, he was so much like his daddy.
Then, right on cue, Daddy came in through the back door, a burst of cold wind behind him. Closing the door, he let out a breath, unwound his scarf, and pulled off his beanie. He’d been mostly data collating in his butterfly house office. Given most butterflies were dormant in the winter, there wasn’t much happening. But his work never stopped. “My word, it’s abysmal out there,” he mumbled, straightening his hair. He gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Dinner smells amazing.”
“Beef stew with dumplings,” I said, pulling the oven door down.
Lawson inhaled, his hand at my back. “I would marry you again if I could.”
I chuckled and he went over to Brennan, sitting down beside him, put his arm around him and kissed the top of his head. “You finished work, Daddy?”
“I did. What are you working on there?”
“Colouring the sea turtle,” Brennan replied. He took his work very seriously. “Did you save the butterflies today?”
Lawson smiled. “I sure did.” Then he proceeded to point and explain the parts of the turtle’s anatomy, and Brennan nodded, wide-eyed, soaking up every drop of information he could.
He was so much like his daddy.
They were just so cute, I could barely stand it. My heart was full, like it had been since the day I met Lawson, and then doubly so from the day we met Brennan. Our lives changed forever the day we officially became parents. We’d never been busier, more exhausted, sleep-deprived, and stretched thin between work and home. But we’d never been happier.
Lawson’s butterfly research had been elevated to a whole other level, and while he was internationally acclaimed and famous within the lepidoptery world, he never let it go to his head. He never once made his work more important than mine or more important than our family. It wasn’t even that he was humble about it. He just had no idea of his own brilliance. Don’t get me wrong, he knew he was intelligent and good at what he did, but he never could see what all the fuss was about.
It was something I loved about him.
“Are we ready for dinner?” I asked.
Lawson smiled at me. “Absolutely. Brennan and I shall set the table.”
Brennan neatly put his pencil in its place, closed the colouring book, then put his table tray squarely on the coffee table before he helped with the placemats and cutlery. It was like watching two Lawsons: one big, one small.
I put the casserole dish on the stovetop and walked over to them, taking Lawson’s face in my hands and kissing him soundly on the lips, then placed a gentle kiss on the top of Brennan’s head.
“What was that for?” Lawson asked, smiling but perplexed.
“You’re both so cute, I couldn’t help it.”
Brennan giggled as he took his seat. “Dadda, you’re silly.”
So I tickle-kissed him again while he laughed and squirmed. Lawson plated up dinner and I poured everyone a glass of water, and like we did every night, we sat down for dinner. Lawson asked me about my day and we talked about the hazard-reduction plans I was implementing, given it was winter. Brennan had been at pre-school, so he had much to tell us about his day—and how, with a slightly sardonic rise of his cute little eyebrows, he was now allowed to use safety scissors—and Lawson told us of the data collation he’d been working on for the Australian Lepidopterist Society on the conservation of the purple copper butterfly: a rare butterfly in New South Wales that he’d been assisting on.
Talking about our day was our nightly ritual and one of my most favourite things in the world.
When we were packing up after dinner, my phone rang.
“Jack Brighton-Gale speaking.”
“Hello Jack, this is Connor Tallis from Franklin-Gordon National Park. We’ve met a few times at State Park seminars.”
I racked my brain . . . Connor, tall blond guy from the southwestern part of Tasmania. My national park was northeast, almost opposite corners of the state. But I remembered him. “Yes, mate. How’s winter down your way?”
“Biting.”
I chuckled. “I bet it is. What can I do for you?”
“Well, this is going to sound a bit odd. But I was hoping I could have a word with your husband, Lawson Brighton-Gale.”
“Doctor Lawson Brighton-Gale,” I corrected automatically.
Lawson smirked at that, but I had his attention.
“May I ask what this is in relation to?”
“Yeah sure,” he replied. “We had some campers through last week and they’d done some abseiling and found their way into a cave formation in the cliffs there. I was talking to them when they got back, and one of them happened to mention something they found fascinating. There were butterflies and cocoon casings stuck to the roof of the cave.”
I shot Lawson a look and he left the sink and walked over to me.
“Anyway,” Connor went on. “Me and one of my guys went up and had a look. It’s not an easy climb and it involves abseiling . . . but I found what they were talking about. I took photos and some of the old casings from the cave floor, and I found one dead butterfly. I brought it all back to document, you know, as we do.” I nodded, though he couldn’t see. It was procedure to document all fauna findings. “But I looked online and couldn’t find anything even close. I was hoping your butterfly guy might be able to help.”
I got that excited feeling in my belly. “I’ll just put him on.”
I handed my phone to Lawson. “Connor Tallis from Franklin-Gordon National Park. Found a butterfly.”
Lawson made a face but took the phone. “Doctor Lawson Brighton-Gale speaking.”
I left him to it and put Brennan in the bath and got him ready for bed. Lawson was still speaking to Connor and there was talk of photographs, and I could tell from the length of the conversation that Lawson was intrigued.
When I brought Rosemary in from her bedtime bathroom break, Lawson was off the phone but now staring intently at his laptop screen.