Always Alchemy: The Ever After Book (Alchemy #6)

18. Forest Gumption

18

FOREST GUMPTION

AIDA

T he smell of something delicious cooking for our dinner hits me as soon as I let myself in our front door.

I am one lucky girl.

‘Sweetie?’ I call out as I drop my bag in the foyer and pick up the mail stacked on the table, riffling through it as I walk. More circulars.

‘In here,’ Cal says from the kitchen, his voice sounding thick. I head down the corridor and into the kitchen where I find him sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands, weeping .

‘Oh my God.’ I drop the pile of mail on the table and sink to my knees beside him. ‘Sweetie. What’s up? Is everyone okay?’

My man has a big heart. He shows his emotions easily, and it’s one of the many things I love about him, but this is concerning, to say the least .

‘Hey.’ I smooth a hand over his dark hair when he doesn’t answer. ‘You’re scaring me.’

‘Sorry.’ He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he looks up, they’re reddened. ‘Yeah, everyone’s fine.’

‘Well, that’s good.’ I pull myself up and onto the seat next to his. ‘So what’s with the waterworks then, eh?’

He sighs and taps his fingertip on the magazine open in front of him. A quick glance tells me he’s reading The Florentia , Eton’s environmental magazine, which our son Pip has been working on for a couple years now. On the pages in front of him are an article with the headline Weeping Willows —jeez, I love that—and a beautiful photo of what is most likely the Amazon. Below the heading I’m thrilled to see my son’s byline. I haven’t read this edition yet; it must have arrived today.

‘I’ve just been reading about the rainforests,’ my husband continues, wiping his cheek, ‘and it’s really fucking sad.’

I pause. This is why he’s crying? I put a comforting hand on his bicep—Lord, it’s big—and use the other hand to rotate the magazine towards me a little.

‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘It is really sad.’ It’s way more than sad. It’s a fucking travesty. But it’s not exactly new news here.

He blinks at me with those beautiful brown eyes. ‘Did you know the Amazon supplies twenty percent of the world’s oxygen? I mean, what the hell are we thinking?!’

Well, that’s a gross oversimplification. There’s a tonne of reasons to be concerned for the future of our planet, but running out of oxygen isn’t one of them. I should know. I’ve been investigating and reporting on environmental matters since Cal was still in high school. I figure now might not be the right time to mention that I’ve actually interviewed Jane Goodall for the BBC .

Twice.

‘I know, right?’ I say instead. I stroke his arm softly. ‘It sucks.’

He jabs at the magazine again. ‘Pip’s writing is amazing. This is seriously good journalism.’

‘I can’t wait to read it. If he’s eliciting this kind of emotion from you, then clearly he’s doing some great reporting.’

Even if some of his stats sound a little spurious. I mentally shake myself. I should leave the poor kid alone. He’s fourteen, for God’s sake, and he doesn’t exactly have a BBC newsroom full of fact-checkers serving him.

‘Yeah,’ he says absently. He gives a big, wet sniff. ‘It’s really got me thinking.’

I should tread carefully while he’s feeling fragile. ‘Is this information… new for you?’

‘I mean, not new exactly, but it’s kind of hitting different. You know? I was aware of it, but not really conscious of it. Does that make sense? But these statistics are just so fucking shocking. Did you know the rainforests house eighty percent of the planet’s biodiversity?’

‘Terrestrial biodiversity, yes.’

‘And we get, like, a quarter of our pharmaceuticals from rainforest plants?’

‘Uh-huh.’

He throws his hands up and looks at me in outrage. ‘Well, what the fuck are we going to do about it? We have to do something!’

Oh, my darling husband. He may be late to this party—decades late—but at least I can always count on him to bring the confetti when he finally shows.

‘I agree. What’s Pip advocating?’

He casts his eye over the bulleted list at the end of the article. ‘Uh, donations to conservation charities, mainly. Avoiding palm oil. Wait—do we use palm oil?’

I shake my head. ‘No, honey. Except for Nutella, but their palm oil comes from a segregated source. Our peanut butter is palm oil free.’

He gazes at me, those reddened eyes affectionate. ‘My darling. You’ve been our little eco-warrior the whole time, and I didn’t even realise.’

I stifle a laugh. ‘Not really. Just, you know, making good choices. Voting with my wallet.’

‘God, you’re amazing. And so sexy.’

He slides a hand around the back of my neck and tugs me closer. I lean over the table so I can reap every gorgeous moment of his soft, loving kiss. There’s even a hint of tongue—fleeting, but so soft, and very promising. I can totally see Cal wanting to release all this pent-up emotion with some seriously intense, intimate sex later.

Yay for me!

‘Maybe we should take the boys on holiday to the Amazon,’ he says suddenly, pulling away. ‘You know, like eco-tourists.’

‘In a plane ?’ I ask teasingly, and he stares at me.

‘Shit. God yeah, no. Scratch that. Bloody hell, this environmental stuff’s a lot, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘It’s a lot to get our heads around. It’s a big responsibility.’

‘I’d love to do a fundraiser,’ he muses now. ‘Something to make me feel better about the whole thing.’

‘That sounds great,’ I agree. Cal’s so childlike, sometimes. Watching him get so worked up about something I’ve been losing sleep over for years and years is pretty adorable.

Concerning, but adorable.

He lets out a gasp so sudden, so loud, that I jump. ‘Holy fuck. I’ve got it. Oh my God, I’m a fucking genius. This is the best idea ever . It’ll raise so much money.’

‘Tell me,’ I urge him.

‘No. Let me think about it for a few hours. But it’s amazing, honestly. And it would be great fun. I’d need to get the whole gang involved.’

‘It sounds intriguing.’ I squeeze his hand and stand up. ‘I’m gonna go slip into something more comfortable before we eat.’

He doesn’t take the bait, which is a first. He’s too busy pulling up a notes app on his phone. He’s already in the zone.

I smile to myself.

I think I’ll just “leaf” him to it.