Page 37 of The Accidental Witch

“He died when I was an infant, but my mother always told me stories about him and how great he was. They were together a long time before they had me. I was what humans call a late-in-life baby.”

“Humanscall late in life? I’m almost afraid to ask what that means.”

Greer looked at her carefully before he said, “She was one hundred when she had me.”

Um… “Wait, how old are you?”

“Are you ready to hear that?”

“I have a possessed hand, Greer. I was whisked away to a place called The Lost Lands. I have a broom that talks with a French accent. Hit me,” she said confidently.

“Seventy.”

Her eyes went wide. “Seventy months? Weeks?”

Greer laughed. “Years. I told you, I’m immortal, right? Or I was immortal, anyway. Obviously not impervious to death, but without incident, I would have lived forever.”

Her mouth fell open as she shifted positions on the bed, almost afraid to ask. But ask she did. “Am I immortal now, too?”

He winced. “You are.”

“Do you think you might have wanted to share that with me? Or were you just going to show up at my hundredth birthday party and be like surprise, guess who’s immortal?”

Greer winced again, but he let loose a small laugh. “I did kinda tell you, but I didn’t want to bring it up again. I just felt like it was a lot to absorb after everything you’ve already been through. I was biding my time. Truthfully, it was the last thing on my mind.”

Holding up a hand, she stopped his explanation. “I think I’m going to need time to process. In the meantime, tell me more about your mom. She never remarried?”

“No. She devoted her life to the coven and to me.” He paused then, finally looking at her. “What about your family?”

Flapping a hand, Robbie dismissed them. “You know all you need to know about my shitty family. My mother may not have tried to kill me, but she didn’t mind diverting funds meant for a charity for children with life threatening diseases. A charity near and dear to my heart, mind you. One I can never be a part of again because of her. If I never see any of them again, it’ll be too soon.”

“A charity?”

Tears sprang to her eyes. Rather than answer, she nodded.

He pushed her drying hair from her face, his touch tender. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Closing her eyes, Robbie shook her head. “No. It’s okay. I was involved in charity work all my life. My mother didn’t lovehowinvolved I was, but she left me to my own devices for the most part. Likely because I never fit in. I was always saying the wrong thing, eating with the wrong fork, wearing white after Labor Day. You know…rich folk stuff.”

“You don’t know the difference between a salad fork and an entrée fork? What kind of heathen are you?” he asked, teasingly.

“I’ve shown you how bad my memory can be. Imagine growing up with Atilla The Momster whoinsistedI remember.”

Laughing, Greer said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Go on, please.”

Looking down at their entwined hands, Robbie shrugged. “There was this one charity for children with life-threatening illnesses that really had my heart. I went to see the kids at the hospital, got to know their families, read to them, arranged for the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus to visit—even the Tooth Fairy. I… I fell in love with these sweet babies and their families. But when the press got a hold of what my mother had done, the board at the hospital banned all of us and… Well, I can’t blame them. I’d do the same in their position. But it meant I couldn’t see them anymore.”

Visiting the hospital, meeting those children, holding their grief-stricken parents, had been the privilege of her life. To have that taken away had almost broken her in two. She missed them so much, it physically hurt.

“Jesus, Robbie. What a shitshow. I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry.”

She swiped at a tear threatening to escape down her cheek, her eyes burning from holding them back. “It’s okay. I can’t be with them anymore, or at least not until my mother’s in jail where she belongs and they prove I had nothing to do with this—which can take years, I hear. But I check their Facebook pages…the ones who haven’t blocked me, that is. They’re justifiably angry. I wouldn’t believe me either. I mean, I was in the thick of my mother’s corporation and didn’t know a thing.”

“What about your father?”

She scoffed. Men were as disposable as hand wipes for her mother. “Which one? If you know anything about Agatha Tisdale, she’s had five ex-husbands.”

“Five?” he said in disbelief, his eyes going wide.

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