Jack Brighton really was a very good looking man, and the playfulness and flirting were exhilarating. The anticipation even more so. I would be very interested in something physical happening between us, and I had no issue in instigating it if I had to. But now was not the time. Professor Tillman had entrusted me with what could be the legacy of his career.
He swore to me the species was here. He’d seen it. Many years ago when he had youth on his side, a keen mind and able body, he’d hiked all over these ranges. It was the late seventies, he’d said. He had no paper or pencil and his camera was out of film. He’d seen one single specimen. That was all. He’d gone home and drawn what he saw from memory, and he’d been back a hundred times in the years that followed. But he’d never seen it again.
Now his mind was still keen but his body wasn’t able. He told me he’d met a lot of lepidopterists over the decades, but none that he trusted. Until me.
In his words, I wasn’t owned by The Society. Yes, I worked under the world-renowned Professor Michael Asterly at Melbourne University. Yes, I was his best and brightest student: I published journal articles years before my classmates, and yes, I was one of the best. It wasn’t even that I’d specialised in Lycaenidae. It was because I wasn’t liked by the scholar squad, he’d called them. And that, according to Professor Tillman was why he chose me. As it turned out, he never cared much for their opinions either.
When he’d told them he’d seen an Eltham Copper Butterfly in Tasmania, they’d laughed at him. Only it wasn’t an Eltham Copper. How could it be when it was not found anywhere near Eltham? Eltham Coppers were so named, they reminded him, because Eltham, Victoria, was the only area in which they were found. But Professor Tillman was adamant. He said it was like an Eltham Copper though it had varying distinct marks on its hindwing, like no other Copper in any book he’d found. And that made it a new discovery. A new species.
But he had no proof. And after decades of fruitless searching, he’d passed the baton onto me.
So, with that in mind, I opened the first tub and got to work.
I took recordings of temperature, wind direction, GPS location, aspect, and sun position. Then I took notes on plant types and soil types. I could see why the professor had liked this area for finding Coppers. On paper, it was perfect.
Eltham Coppers liked north facing aspect for warmer weather, they lived in vegetation classified as woodland, and this area was both of those things. If I were a betting man and these butterflies were going to be found in an area outside of Victoria, then I’d say there was a very good chance for it to be here.
I got so carried away with my data collation like I always do, that I forgot Jack was in the Defender. Actually, I kind of forgot he was there at all.
“Hey!” his voice, even far off, still alarmed me.
I spun to the sound of it, to find him trudging through the scrub toward me. “Jeez, you scared me,” I admitted with my hand to my heart.
It took him a few seconds to keep walking so he was close enough for a conversation. “You always make a habit of walking off without telling someone where you’re going?”
“Well, no. I’m normally here by myself,” I explained. I pulled the GPS and satellite phone from my backpack. “I know where I am.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know. I finished my paperwork, looked up, and you were gone.”
“Oh.”
“Scared the crap outta me.”
“Sorry.” I felt bad about making him worry. “How did you find me?”
He finally smiled. “You were whistling. A tune or something.”
“Was I?” I had been told by other colleagues that I tended to whistle to myself when I was lost in my work, particularly out in the field. “I didn’t realise.”
“Lucky you hadn’t gone too far or I wouldn’t have heard you.” Jack gave a nod back to the direction he’d come, and following his line of sight, I could just make out the white of the Defender through the scrub. “Found anything yet?”
“Not yet. It’s mostly data collation at this stage. The conditions are right, though. The elements and vegetation are correct for the habitat of Coppers, though I’ve not seen any ant colonies or any butterflies, for that matter.”
“What do they look like?” he asked. “I mean, I could’ve seen one by now and wouldn’t have known.”
“Have you ever paid attention to butterflies?”
His lip pulled down to one corner. “Well, no. Not really.”
From my pocket I fished out the photocopy of the professor’s drawing and showed it to him. “That’s it.”
It was a detailed sketch, the very one the professor had drawn all those decades ago. The copper-coloured wings were what gave the specimen its name.
Jack looked from the drawing to me. “It’s brown.”
“That’s a photocopy of an old drawing. The butterfly is copper. Hence the name Eltham Copper.”
“Okay, so it’s not brown. It’s copper.” I was surprised he didn’t roll his eyes.
“Coppers are part of the Lycaenidae genus, and Elthams, in particular are on the endangered species list. I happen to study them in efforts of conservation.”
“Endangered?”
“Yes. They’re found in only a few very small, decreasing pockets of vegetation in Victoria. So I’m sure you can appreciate the importance of what the professor found.”
Jack nodded, all humour gone. “Yes, of course. I didn’t realise it was endangered.” He seemed to think something over in his mind for a moment. “How do you go about finding them? I mean, it’s not like animal tracks. The Tasmanian devils, for example, dig burrows, leave scratch marks on trees and logs, and disturb the topsoil. Or there’s leftover meals or scat. Actually, they’re messy buggers. Butterflies aren’t exactly intrusive.”
It was a good question, and one I got asked frequently. “There are markers, if you know what to look for. The Eltham Copper have a very complex triangular dependency with the Notoncus ant and the Bursaria spinosa―”
“Sweet Bursaria? The shrub?”
“Yes. Are you familiar with it?”
“Well, yeah. It grows all over these ranges.”
Flora and fauna, of course. I started to smile. “Can you identify more specific areas on my map?”
“Sure I can. It’s my job.”
I leaned up on my toes and kissed him softly on the lips. “You are a godsend.”
He grinned. I had no idea one little kiss could make him smile like that. “Maybe we could go over all your maps tonight with dinner?”
“You’ve set the bar pretty high for date expectations,” I teased. “Not sure what you could do to beat last night.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Then I’d love to.”
He leaned in and, with his fingers under my chin, tilted my face up toward his. He pressed his lips to mine, gently at first, then harder, and sliding his hand along my jaw, he urged my lips open with his own. God, how he kissed me.
In that perfect moment, the world stopped turning. Nothing existed but him. He left me breathless and dizzy, and certain of one thing.
There was more on the menu tonight than just dinner.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jack