by N. R. Walker
We were heading to New Zealand for our honeymoon in a few days, and talk soon turned to that. “But there are earthquakes in New Zealand,” Lawson’s mum said.
“Or avalanches!” my mum added.
“It’s not snowing,” Lawson informed them. “And I’m not that accident prone. The bushfire wasn’t exactly an accident, and the whole incident with the cane toad was simply a set of unfortunate circumstances…”
“And the time on Mount Kosciuszko?” Paterson furthered. “What was that?”
“It was slippery underfoot.”
“And the time in the Blue Mountains?” Mackellar added with a smile.
Lawson lifted his chin. “Well, luckily for Jack―”
“Luckily for Jack?” his dad barked out a laugh. “Luckily for you!”
Lawson sighed and I leaned in and kissed him, trying not to smile. “I’ll always be with you.”
“Because the National Parks and Wildlife Service have banned him from visiting alone,” Darren said.
It was all said in good fun, and the jibes at Lawson’s run of bad luck whilst out in the field had long been a running family joke. But still, I put my arm around him and defended his honour. “I’ll have you know, he’s very capable and responsible.”
Lawson gave me a look of love and thanks, then preened to his family. “Thank you, Jack.”
But then I added, “Well, except for the bushfire thing.”
“Uncle Lawson!” Luka came running in from out the back, Rosemary at his side. “Uncle Lawson, I think your butterflies have escaped.”
“What?”
We shot up out of our seats and raced outside, but the butterfly house was fully sealed. There’s no way any could have gotten out.
“No, over here,” Luka cried. He was standing at the side of the house, waving us over. “Here they are.”
It was the Bursaria spinosa shrub we’d planted after the bushfire. For three years it had thrived on the northern side of the house with the rosemary that Rosemary still loved. Lawson had kept an eye on it, the Notoncus ants had built a colony, but there had never been any butterflies…
Lawson crouched down in the dirt, still wearing his suit, and examined the foliage. He bent lower and inspected the roots of the shrub, then bent right down so his hands were in the dirt and he was looking at the undergrowth.
He pulled back, looked up at me, and grinned. That kind of heart-stopping grin that he only gave to me and butterflies.
“What?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew.
He stood up slowly and looked at all of us waiting for him to speak. He barked out a happy laugh and put his hand over his mouth. “We have Tillman Coppers. In the wild. Here. My butterfly. In the wild at my house.”
Everyone cheered, and I collected him in a crushing hug. “I knew you could do it.”
He mumbled into my neck. “On our wedding day!”
“Like they somehow knew.”
He nodded, and when he pulled back, he had tears in his eyes. “Like Warner sent them here as a wedding gift. Do you think that’s possible?”
I smiled and kissed him softly on the lips. “I think he’s up there somewhere in the biggest butterfly house he could have dared imagined and sent them here to you, today of all days.”
Lawson got all teary. “Thank you.”
I noticed then that our families had left us alone to have this moment in private. Lawson put his fingers to my tie and adjusted the knot. He still had watery eyes, though it wasn’t a sadness. More of an overwhelming love. “You look so handsome today,” he whispered.
I ran my thumb over his jaw. “So do you.”
“I wish Warner could have been here.”
“He was,” I said. Then I looked to the shrub and the roosting butterflies. “He is here.”
“How do you always know exactly what to say?”
I shrugged. “I dunno, Lawson. You did pretty well with your vows today. I thought we agreed on no personal vows, then you surprised me with the whole speech on imagines?”
“Did you like that? I thought it was fitting for us.”
“I loved it. And it was very fitting. If you were imago on your own, then we together are imagines.”
He stared into my eyes and smiled. “Oh, Jack, that is where you’re wrong. I was, could never be, imago on my own. If I ever did reach imago, it was only ever because of you.”
I put my forehead to his and held his jaw. “Lawson Gale―”
“Lawson Brighton-Gale,” he corrected with a smile.
I grinned at that. “Doctor Lawson Brighton-Gale.”
“Yes, Jack Brighton-Gale?”
Dear God, I loved the sound of that. I put my fingers under his chin and lifted his face. I put my eyelashes to his cheek and gave him butterfly kisses until he sighed. “We better get inside. Our families are waiting.”
“Must we?” he asked dreamily. He glanced behind me to the setting sun, to the colours of the sky, then back to me. “I wouldn’t mind starting our forever out here, just us. The sunset, the silence, just us.”
“You forgot the butterflies.”
He put his hand to his stomach and shook his head slowly. “Oh, no. I didn’t.”
Now I kissed his lips. “Imago?”
He shook his head again and smiled. “No. Imagines.”
~ The End
DELETED SCENE
Jack
~ When Jack goes with Lawson and Piers to drop off the samples at the CSIRO lab.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Piers… it was that… well, okay. I didn’t trust him entirely. He had never exactly been encouraging of Lawson’s theories and findings, to what end was anyone’s guess. I just wanted to ensure the samples got to the CSIRO without incident. I wanted Lawson’s work to be received, respected.
So the three of us had made the trip to the CSIRO building in Cairns. And as Lawson and Piers went through to the lab area, I took a seat in the waiting room. It was then a face on a years-old magazine on the side table caught my attention. I couldn’t believe it…
God, I hadn’t seen him in years.
But that face was unforgettable. Well, one face was. There were three men standing together at some rural meeting, but the one guy in the middle hadn’t changed in years. Still ruggedly handsome, still had that killer smile.
I’d spent personal time with him during our uni days in Sydney. Meaning we’d spent a lot of time in bed together. He was a country kid, far from home, as was I. We had a few classes together, both of us environmental science students, two out of towners, both spreading our gay wings for the first time.
He’d disappeared during our third year, apparently had to go home, back to the farm, and never graduated. I hadn’t seen him since. But he’d obviously done all right for himself. The magazine was a Beef Farmers Association edition titled Farming in the Future.
I hadn’t thought of him in so long.
I flipped the magazine open and started reading about farming the remote Outback deserts in the twenty-first century. Wow, he’d really done well for himself.
In all our time together, he never spoke much about his life back home. Every time conversation turned to family, he’d clam up, and I could read cues well enough to know it was a subject best left alone. Not that we were that close. Truth be told, we didn’t do a great deal of talking when we were together… I knew he was from some huge property in the middle of the desert, but I really had no idea just how big. Jesus Christ, his property was about the same size as all of Tasmania. Okay, so maybe not quite that big, but jeez… I had no idea.
The article went on to talk about using technology and how this new generation of farmers were doing this better, smarter than their fathers before them. It was an interesting read. It was such a blast from the past! I couldn’t believe out of all the waiting rooms, out of all the magazines, I had to see this one. The magazine itself was a few years old, worn and tattered, and I wondered how he was doing now.
But it wasn’t
long before Lawson and Piers came back out. Lawson was smiling, that happy, heart-stopping smile and any past lovers were soon forgotten.
“You ready to go camping out?” Lawson asked excitedly.
I threw the magazine back on the pile, stood up, and matched his grin with my own. Spending the night in the middle of the forest with Lawson sounded bloody perfect to me. “Sure am.”
~fin
SPECIAL MENTION TO JULIE BOZZA
I’d like to offer a heartfelt thanks to Julie Bozza. For offering her support, feedback, and input for the Imago series.
Readers, if you enjoyed Imago and Imagines, please do yourself a favour and pick up Julie’s Butterfly Hunter. You won’t be disappointed.
Nicholas and Dave are gorgeous.
About the Author
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance.
She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.
She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.
She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.
She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
She’s been writing ever since…
Contact N.R. Walker
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Also by N.R. Walker
Blind Faith
Through These Eyes (Blind Faith #2)
Blindside: Mark’s Story (Blind Faith #3)
Ten in the Bin
Point of No Return – Turning Point #1
Breaking Point – Turning Point #2
Starting Point – Turning Point #3
Element of Retrofit – Thomas Elkin Series #1
Clarity of Lines – Thomas Elkin Series #2
Sense of Place – Thomas Elkin Series #3
Taxes and TARDIS
Three’s Company
Red Dirt Heart
Red Dirt Heart 2
Red Dirt Heart 3
Red Dirt Heart 4
Red Dirt Christmas
Cronin’s Key
Cronin’s Key II
Cronin’s Key III
Exchange of Hearts
The Spencer Cohen Series, Book One
The Spencer Cohen Series, Book Two
The Spencer Cohen Series, Book Three
Blood & Milk
The Weight Of It All
Perfect Catch
Switched
Imago
Free Reads
Sixty Five Hours
Learning to Feel
His Grandfather’s Watch (And The Story of Billy and Hale)
The Twelfth of Never (Blind Faith 3.5)
Twelve Days of Christmas (Sixty Five Hours Christmas)
Translated Titles
Fiducia Cieca (Italian translation of Blind Faith)
Attraverso Questi Occhi (Italian translation of Through These Eyes)
Preso alla Sprovvista (Italian translation of Blindside)
Il giorno del Mai (Italian translation of Blind Faith 3.5)
Cuore di Terra Rossa (Italian translation of Red Dirt Heart)
Cuore di Terra Rossa 2 (Italian translation of Red Dirt Heart 2)
Confiance Aveugle (French translation of Blind Faith)
A travers ces yeux: Confiance Aveugle 2 (French translation of Through These Eyes)
Aveugle: Confiance Aveugle 3 (French translation of Blindside)
À Jamais (French translation of Blind Faith 3.5)
Cronin’s Key (French translation)
Cronin’s Key II (French translation)
Au Coeur de Sutton Station (French translation of Red Dirt Heart)
Partir ou rester (French translation of Red Dirt Heart 2)
Rote Erde (German translation of Red Dirt Heart)
Rote Erde 2 (German translation of Red Dirt Heart 2)
