Read Online Butterfly Hunter 01 by Julie Bozza - Free Book Online Page B

indicated that Nicholas should get up there, make himself
comfortable.
    “ Are you
sure?” asked Nicholas.
    “ Absolutely.
Go on. Just be careful of the windscreen wipers. Like, don’t sit
right on ’em, or anything.”
    “ I
won’t. I know what this car means to you … Well, it’s not a car , is it?
This vehicle,” he amended. And then he got it right: “Your beloved
Cruiser.”
    Dave guffawed under his
breath. “I’m that obvious, am I?”
    “ To someone
who pays attention.” Nicholas grinned unapologetically.
    Dave didn’t deign to
respond. “I’ll get the tea,” he advised. Once they were both
settled there on the bonnet, wrapped in blankets and with mugs of
tea steaming from their hands, Dave said, “I remembered that story
for you. About butterflies … ?”
    Nicholas turned to him with the
loveliest warmest smile.
    Dave cleared his throat,
and indicated the eastern horizon, which was starting to glow pale
gold. “No, you watch the sunrise, and let me talk.”
    That lovely smile quirked
with humour, and Nicholas turned away again. “All
right.”
    “ There’s this
Aussie singer–songwriter, Pete Murray. He’s really good. I’ll play
you the CDs if you’re interested.”
    “ I’d love
that,” Nicholas murmured.
    “ Anyway,
there’s this song of his, called ‘Ten Ft. Tall’. He tells the story
behind it before he plays it at gigs. And it’s about these two
friends of his, who were childhood sweethearts. They grew up and
got married, and were as happy as. She loved butterflies,” Dave
continued with a nod at Nicholas. “She always said that when she
died, she’d come back as a butterfly.”
    Nicholas was silent now, staring
towards the lightening sky, but also listening carefully.
    “ Well, she got
cancer, though they were all still quite young. And she fought it
for a couple of years, but eventually she passed away.” He took a
breath. “It was about a week after the funeral, her husband and his
mates were having a quiet drink down the pub. It was already late,
it was almost closing time. And this butterfly flew in through a
window, and it headed right for the guy, and settled on his
shoulder. And he didn’t say anything. He just put down his beer and
walked out of there. And the butterfly stayed with him the whole
way home.”
    Nicholas was completely still.
The gold grew brighter, and the sky overhead ran from blues,
through rich purples, to black velvet.
    “ And Pete
always finishes by saying that it’s a true fact that butterflies
never fly at night.”
    Silence.
    “ It’s really
awesome. I mean, it’s an awesome part of the show. A great
song.”
    Still nothing from Nicholas. OK,
something had evidently gone wrong somewhere.
    “ Mate –” Dave
leaned forward to get a glimpse of Nicholas’s face. And discovered
that his eyes and cheeks were wet with tears. “Mate, you should
have stopped me. It’s a sad story, I know.”
    Nicholas glanced at him
with a hint of that same lovely smile, only wobblier. “It’s a
beautiful story,” he amended. “And you’re a romantic, David
Taylor!”
    “ I am not!” he
retorted.
    “ No, of course
not,” Nicholas agreed, though with a catch in his voice. He’d
turned away again, facing resolutely towards the sunrise, the
breaking day. Either the sight was a distraction or it brought with
it a man’s fate, whether good or bad. “I’m sorry!” Nicholas said in
a gasp. And, all right, obviously he was close to full–on weeping
now.
    “ Ah, mate …”
Dave reached to pat him on the back for sympathy, for
reassurance.
    And they sat there
together watching the sky brighten, and then at last – suddenly – a
molten line of gold appeared. Not so long after, the magic was
chased away by the new clean day. Dave wasn’t sure how much of that
Nicholas had managed to take in, but the man slipped away with
another quiet apology once it was over, and disappeared into his
tent.
    Dave sighed, and went to brew
more tea, and make