(Outtake from Chapter 6, first draft, no spell check. Just before Christmas. Skyla is Six, Jenny is 21, Kallie is 21, Amanda is 19, Alex is 26.) ---- "So is Amanda home yet?" Aunt Kallie asked. "Yes she is..." Momma started. I interupted. "She's upstairs making out with her new boyfriend," I announced with a giggle. "Skyla!" Momma scolded. "But it's true! They're up there moaning and groaning!" I protested. Momma rolled her eyes and Kallie grinned. Grandpa looked a little embarrassed, and set down Kathy and hurriedly went out to get the bags. I followed close behind, almost stepping on his heels. When he got to the car and opened the trunk, I looked up at him expectantly. Hefting a bad out of the trunk, he turned and almost ran into me. I giggled. "Watch out." He looked down at me. "And you, little one, what do you want?" he teased. I smiled up at him. "I want a hug!" "Why would you want such a thing?" he asked, faking surprise. "'cause you're my Grandpa, and you're supposed to hug me when you haven't seen me in months." "Who made up that rule?" I pretended to pout, and turned away. "Well, if you don't want to give your only Granddaughter a hug, I understand." I started to walk away, looking as dejected as possible. Suddenly, I felt two big hands pick me up under my armpits. I squealed as Grandpa twirled me around in mid air and hugged me tight against his chest. I hugged him back and giggled. "That's more like it!" I smiled up at him, and gave his chin a peck as he held me. "Well, I'm glad you approve, young lady," he said solumnly, his eyes smiling. I hugged him again. "Now, if I let you down, will you let me carry the bags in without guilt-tripping me?" "Guilt trip? Me?" I asked, looking innocent. He chuckled. "Yes, you, silly little thing," he roughed up my hair, making me smooth it back. That was probably the most annoying thing about Grandpa. He couldn't leave my hair alone. I asked him once why he did it, and he said it was so he could see my cute nose wrinkle in disgust. "I'm not silly," I grumbled. "Yes you are," he said, gathering up the bags. "Am not!" I said, following behind him as he walked in with a suitcase in each hand. "Are too," he teased me, all the way up the stairs to the guest room. Tossing the bags onto the bed, he turned to me and put his hands on his hips. "So when is your father getting home?" Looking at the clock on the bedstand, I shrugged. "Momma said 6. It's 5:30 now." He nodded absently and swept me into his arms again, hooking one arm under my bottom and holding me against his hip as he headed for the door. "So what have you been doing, sweetkins?" he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. His whiskers itched. "Nothing," I said, giving him another hug. I don't get to see him much, so I get as many hugs in as I can when I *do* see him. "Well," he said, chuckling as he took the stairs slowly, careful not to trip. "That must mean you're getting in trouble," he grinned at me. "Why do you think that?" "Because you, my dearest, are always getting in trouble. It's in your nature. Just like your Daddy." He followed the sounds of voices to the living room, where Momma and Kallie were talking.