Page 6 of Always Alchemy

Verity smiles serenely as she pours our tea into three pretty double-walled glasses. I note with delight that she’s cut thick slices of the banana bread I brought over and slathered them with yellow butter, too. I swear, my breast milk is eighty percent banana bread and twenty percent butter at the moment.

‘Lauren is a very special woman, and honestly, I have a huge amount of respect for her. For her to have gathered the courage to find her voice again from within the confines of such a patriarchal relationship is no mean feat. I’m delighted she’s devouring Brené. I bought herUntamed,too.’

‘Thank you,’ I tell Verity. ‘Honestly.’

‘Ben must be feeling very much out in the cold, these days,’ Verity muses.

I give her a watery grin. ‘Better than burning in hellfire with the rest of us, eh? I know it hurts him, but it hurts him more that we don’t have God on our side, I think.’

‘Not your problem, remember?’ Maddy says sternly.

I sigh. ‘I know, but…’ I tail off.

Verity approaches, arms outstretched. ‘How about I cuddle this little princess while you drink your tea?’ She picks Rosalie up gently and puts her on her hip. ‘Look at you,’ she coos. ‘I can tell you’re going to be a strong, incredible woman, just like your mother and your grandmother.’ She turns back to me. ‘You were saying?’

‘Nothing, really. I just get sad, knowing how much us not baptising Rosalie must kill Dad. I get it—it’s our decision, and only ours. But he genuinely believes that if she dies without being baptised, she’ll go to Limbo, and that’s so horrific for him to have to bear.’

Maddy snorts. ‘Jesus Christ. We’re not still supposed to believe that, are we?’

‘Well, some people, like Dad, still hold very fast on that front,’ I tell her.

‘I get it, sweetie,’ Verity says to me, shooting Mads a disapproving look over Rosalie’s head. ‘It’s perfectly all right for you to hold compassion for your father, but you need to remember you’re not responsible for his beliefs or his feelings. I’m sure it’s a difficult conflict, and I’m sure he’s praying for Rosalie, but you can’t take responsibility for any of this. I know you know this.’

I groan as I drop to the carpet and walk over on my knees to the coffee table. The tea smells amazing—soothing and fragrant. I think Verity must have put cardamom in it. And that banana bread is definitely winking at me. I take a slice.

‘I do,’ I admit. ‘I just—I hate the idea that he’s putting in all this extra time praying for something that’s totally unnecessary.’

‘Want to take this one, Mum?’ Maddy suggests, eyebrow arched. She scoops a doorstep of banana bread off the plate.

‘Firstly,’ Verity says gently, stroking Rosalie’s back, ‘who’s to say it’s unnecessary? I mean, I’m pretty fucking sure it is, but I have no proof that our truth is right and not Ben’s.

‘Secondly, his actions aren’t your responsibility, sweetie. I’ll keep on saying it until that sinks in. Of course it’s awful to watch someone you love hurting. But Ben’s particular form of faith has him viewing the world as a dangerous, evil place, and praying is his form of control as much as it’s his form of meditation. It allows him to feel like he has some agency, and I’d put money on it being the only time he feels truly at peace.

‘So let him have it. If you’d moulded your actions to hisbeliefs, you wouldn’t be sitting here with an adoring husband and a beautiful baby girl. Your responsibility is to be in your truth and to think and act in whatever way you’d like to model for this young lady as she grows up. I can just tell she’s going to be the wisest of us all. Yes?’

‘Yeah.’ I blow out a breath and take a huge bite of my banana bread as I nod my thanks. I know Verity’s right. I can’t control everyone around me. Unlike the behaviour my dad modelled for us, I have to respect everyone else’s right to their own life view as much as their right to act in accordance with that life view.

Simply put, I have to let it go, stop feeling this obligation to assuage my father’s conflicts, and prioritise Rafe and Rosalie.

‘Oi,’ Maddy protests. ‘What about my perfect son?’ She gets to her feet, the hand holding the banana bread held aloft, and gazes adoringly into the crib at her beautiful baby boy.

‘He is perfect,’ Verity says dreamily, ‘and I’d like to see him try to be anything other than the most evolved male with you, me and those two gorgeous sisters of his filling his brain.’

3

CLEAR YOUR MIND

NAT

‘So tense,’ Adam murmurs in my ear as he massages my bare shoulders.

I smile tightly and force myself to focus on the perfect pleasure of his touch. We’ve just left Darcy, Max and Dex at the Alchemy bar and come through to The Playroom to kick our evening up a notch. Now he stands behind me, his body heat radiating against my back, and my own tired body just wants to collapse against him, let him take care of me.

It’s hard, though, because my crazy brain is refusing to cooperate. Usually, I love my insane levels of motivation. I applaud them. But I’m exhausted, and I wish to God there was a switch I could flip and turn the relentless internal monologue right off.

Next door, while Max told some highly amusing story with his usual storytelling aplomb and acerbic wit, I zoned out completely. While I was stroking Adam’s thigh and laughing along with the others, I was actually cataloguingthe celebrities attending Gossamer’s official launch next week, mentally listing those who’ve requested a dress, those who’ve been fitted, and those we’re still chasing.

The past two months have been a whirlwind of excitement and adrenaline and a learning curve so steep it may as well have been a vertical climbing wall with no footholds. My incredible boyfriend-slash-brand-new-investor has been as good as his word, moving me into his palatial home between Christmas and New Year’s and forcing me to relinquish every part of my job that’s “below my pay grade” (his words).

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