I shrugged. “Yes.”
He went to reply but stopped, and his shoulders sagged. Instead he took a deep breath. “I guess so.”
“You know it might not be all bad. You’ll go back to Victoria but get to come back every weekend you can. I’m not opposed to seeing you on weekends.”
Lawson opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. “I don’t want to think about that just yet.”
“About seeing me again?”
He shook his head slowly. “No. About not seeing you again.”
I stepped in front of him and put my hand to his face. “I don’t want to think about it either, but we’re running out of days, Lawson.” I kissed him softly. “When do you leave?”
“In three days.”
I sighed, closed my eyes, and pressed my forehead to his.
Three days.
“This is kind of insane, isn’t it?” I asked. “I’ve only known you for a few days.”
“Five days. Six days if you include today.” His blue eyes met mine, our foreheads still touching. “It’s not insane. Insanity is a state of mind which prevents normal perception and/or behaviours.”
I chuckled at his clinical reply, but he pulled back so he could see my face properly and shrugged. “Jack, what I perceive of you, and how I’ve conducted myself in your company is with full mental cohesion.” His cheeks stained with colour. “And Einstein would have you believe that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” He bit his lip and laughed at himself, I think. “But I don’t want different results. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
I kissed him, deeper this time. It wasn’t a kiss that was leading to something more. It was simply an I-have-to-kiss-you-right-now kind of kiss. He’d just professed how he felt to me, as only Lawson could. By giving me a clinical definition of insanity and quoting Einstein, of course.
I ended the kiss with a flutter of butterfly kisses against his cheek. “I wouldn’t change a thing either,” I whispered. “Except for the whole leaving thing.”
“Except for that.”
*
We drove further north, deeper into the national park, the track now no more than a four-wheel drive fire trail. The terrain went from undulating woodlands to steeper, open forest. The canopy wasn’t exactly touching but the undergrowth was thicker and made for difficult assessment of possible activity.
But it didn’t stop him. I doubted much would. Again, he did his own research and I did mine, though I could hear him whistling or muttering to himself periodically, so I knew where he was at all times.
But he found no Notoncus ants, and therefore, no Eltham Copper butterfly.
There was nothing at the second site we went to after that either.
Cloud cover was starting to roll in from the south, which troubled me. After Lawson had thrown his storage tubs into the back of the Defender, he pulled off his hat and wiped his sweaty forehead. “The humidity is rising.”
I pointed to the sky. “Those clouds are coming from the south, too.”
“And that’s not a good thing?”
“Usually means storms.”
He sipped his water bottle and moaned. “Please let it rain. It’s so dry and hot. Never thought I’d miss Melbourne weather. This here never changes. Back home we’d be onto our third season of the day by this time: arctic southerlies, desert westerlies, monsoon rain. This here is just plain old hot and dry.”
I put my hands out and felt the sweat roll down my back. “This is a perfect summer day.” Truth be told, it was stinking fucking hot and dry as a chip.
Lawson rolled his eyes. “What’s your favourite season?”
“All of them.”
“You can’t love all of them.”
“I do. In summer, I love winter. In winter, I love summer.”
Lawson laughed and threw his water bottle at me. I caught it easily and finished it off. “We’d better get heading back. That road in isn’t going to be easy going if this storm hits.”
He nodded reluctantly.
“I’m driving,” I announced as he buckled Rosemary into her seat harness. “There’s something I want to show you. It’s not far from here.”
I followed the trail further north—the overhung branches scraped up the side of the Defender—and pulled off at a closed gate. “Is that private property?” Lawson asked.
“No. It’s all Park’s land, but we closed access. It’s not locked, but it keeps the innocent people out. Plus, most people who use this road are heading through to Bridport. They don’t stop along here.” I got out and opened the gate, pushing it into the scrub to keep it open. I jumped back in and drove the Defender through and kept on going.
“Shouldn’t we have closed the gate?” Lawson asked, looking behind us. “Rule of thumb in the country is, you leave gates as you find them.”
I grinned at him. “I know, but we won’t be long.”
I drove for maybe a hundred metres, but with the winding and bumpy trail, it was slower going than I’d have liked. When I got to as far as the trail would take us, I stopped the Defender and undid my seatbelt. “We walk from here. It’s not far, but we’ll have to be quick.”
Lawson was excited but cautious. “Should I be worried? Maybe my first impression of you being a serial killer was founded.”
I laughed as I got out. I opened up the back door, unclipped Rosemary, and pointed directly ahead. “This way.”
We’d only been walking for a little while to a symphony of birdlife when he asked, “How far are we going?”
“Almost there. See the clearing up ahead?” As we entered the clearing, I could see the sky had darkened considerably. “Okay, we need to be quick. This way.”
I took us to the right of the clearing where a gully formed before the line of trees. I jumped down into the gully and back into the treed area and held onto Rosemary’s collar.
“Why did you stop?” Lawson whispered.
“Look over there, twenty metres through the gully.” I nodded ahead. “Listen.”
He craned his neck and his brow furrowed as he concentrated. I could hear it, and I waited for him to. His eyes flashed to mine. “What the hell is that?”
The noise was very distinct. Growls, hisses, screams, and screeches. It sounded like there were younglings. My grin got wider. “We can look. But we can’t get too close.”
Lawson’s gaze searched and searched, and I could see the moment he found them because he smiled. “Tasmanian devils.”
I nodded excitedly. “And joeys. They’re very vocal.”
We could see two baby devils rumbling and jumping on each other. They were the cutest things. Black with bands of white across the chest, little tails, and huge jaws.
“There’s been a den here for years. The same female comes here to have her babies year in, year out. We’ve been keeping an eye on them. The bitch has been tagged, but she’s healthy, her joeys are healthy, so we leave them be.”
Then a third joey pounced onto his siblings and more growling and snarling ensued, followed by more rumbling and rough-play.
I took out my phone and snapped photographs. “I’ll send these to the STDP.”