26 Kisses - Anna Michels Page 0,75

relatives gathers around Dad and Kaylee, I sneak around the other side of the Escalade and make a beeline for the giant white tent set up on the lawn. My head is pounding from the combination of a slight hangover and the incredibly uncomfortable car ride, and all I want to do is sit somewhere quiet and shady.

The grass is long, and the ground slopes slightly uphill, making me stumble a couple of times. I kick off my sandals and continue on barefoot, walking as fast as I can without making my head spin. I duck into the tent and sigh with relief. There’s a whole table spread with food and giant glass dispensers full of water, iced tea, and lemonade. I grab a cup and fill it to the brim, slurping down the water as fast as I can.

I hear a noise behind me and spin around, my breath catching in my throat. My grandpa is sitting off in a corner, a plate of untouched food on the table next to him. And, I realize as I take a step toward him, he’s in a wheelchair. When I saw him at Christmas, he was leaning hard on a cane but still walking around just fine on his own. Dad didn’t mention anything about a wheelchair.

Grandpa’s head is tipped back, his eyes closed, and a soft snore escapes from his open mouth. Dressed in spotless khakis and a short-sleeved checked shirt, he looks the same as he always has. Sharp, intelligent, unyielding. But the wheelchair takes that illusion of power away from him and makes him seem . . . withered.

Just as I’m thinking that, though, his eyes snap open, and I see he’s the same old Grandpa Phillip, even if his body is weakening.

“Veda.” He beckons me closer and pulls me in for a kiss, bumping my cheek with his chin, and I mentally record P in the log. It’s going to be harder to keep track of the kisses now that I’m not going in alphabetical order. “Is your father here?”

“Yep.” I straighten up and step away. “Want me to wheel you over there?”

Grandpa grunts. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll walk.” He grabs his cane, which is leaning up against a nearby table, and hauls himself to his feet.

“But what about the wheelchair?”

“I don’t actually ride in that cursed thing.” Grandpa gives it a look of pure disgust. “But it’s a hell of a lot more comfortable to sit in than those folding chairs.”

I follow after him, being sure to walk a half step behind him so he won’t notice I’m slowing my pace to avoid passing him. “Nice day,” I say, unable to think of anything else to talk about. “I heard something about rain earlier, so we’re lucky it held off.”

He keeps walking, eyes straight ahead. “About time you all got here,” he says. “We’ve been waiting on you.”

Uncle Eddie, my dad’s younger brother who lives in Florida, sees Grandpa coming, and hurries over. “I think we’re all here, Dad,” he says. “Do you want to—”

Grandpa waves a hand dismissively. “Let’s get the show on the road,” he says.

Uncle Eddie grins at me and pulls me in for a hug. “Hi, Veda,” he says. I stiffen, but he smacks a kiss on my cheek anyway. So now I have two Es. And still no J, or anything in between K and P. My head spins.

“Hi,” I say, smiling through my headache and trying to look happy to be here. “Good to see you.”

“You too. You’re all grown-up.” He pats my arm and nods at Grandpa, who is striding back toward the tent, leaning hard on his cane. “I better go gather the troops. Can you get your brother and the other boys?”

I nod and hurry over to the barn, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone. The barn is dark and cool inside, and I briefly contemplate whether I could sneak off into a corner and just hide out there for the rest of the day. Jeffrey and our cousins are clustered around a game of giant Jenga that stands nearly as tall as I am. I lean against a post and watch as Jeffrey kneels down to wiggle out a piece from the bottom of the stack.

“That’s his classic move,” I say to Brad, one of the cousins who falls somewhere in the age range between me and Jeffrey. “Take as many out from the bottom as possible and screw the next person