Endless Game (A Short Story)

Endless Game
Often people are more important to us than we are to them, and sometimes we find that out abruptly...
"You sure you don't want to go to town with us?", my mother asked as she held the rear door open for Granny and Dad started the car.
"I'm sure!" and I was, too. I had to be dragged out of there. After all there was only three short weeks with a horse to ride up and down the rugged Ozark mountain road and besides Grandaddy was staying behind as well. Thinking back, I can't remember why he stayed home that day- he had had a few heart episodes.. maybe he wasn't feeling up to the long trip to town and the Laundromat and the Dime Store browsing (where Granny invariably separated herself from the rest of us and had to be searched for, usually to be found in the yarn, crochet needle and quilting section). Plus a trip into the store for groceries, enough to last several days since trips to town were rare in those days. Kerosene for the lamps and lanterns. T.P. Sugar. Coffee and bacon. Cheerios, canned biscuits, Little Debbie Apple Delights. That sticky kind of ribbon candy in tins that grandparents always seemed to have on hand. Bread. Milk came from the nearest neighbor's cow and eggs came from grandaddy's own chickens. Vegetables were growing in the garden. Granny was always canning all summer so there was plenty all year.
    Back inside, the house was dim and cool, a breeze was moving the curtains. I headed to the kitchen pump for some spring water, cold enough to frost your glass, still the best tasting water I have ever drank. Whenever we returned home, gallons of that water would go with me, to be savored over the next week or so, after I was away from my paradise and stuck once again in hot old flat Florida.
When I came out of the kitchen, Grandaddy was there. Such a mild little man, balding and frail seeming, yet trim and spry, always puttering here and there, building things or gardening or taking cuckoo clocks or radios apart.  He stood in front of me and reached out and touched my half-developed breast and said "Please do me a favor and don't tell anybody." He bent down to put his mouth there, and that's when I shoved him. "Grandaddy, what are you doing?!" He fell back onto the old green sofa, his glasses askew. I ran from the room, into the big old bedroom I stayed in with my parents. I slid the deadbolt shut and threw myself onto the soft old feather bed and cried. I was scared. But I had my book, and could while away the time until Mom and Dad returned. I had no idea what to think. I did not really know what to do.
After what seemed like a long time, he came to my door. "Honey, are you in there? I'm mighty lonesome. How bout you come out here and play me a game of dominos?" Okay, I thought. I will stall him over dominos... at least there would be a table between us.
He acted as if nothing at all had happened. I know I was not talkative. We played dominos, five/blank /, double five X, and on and on , until the car could be heard coming up the dirt road, rocks clacking as the car crossed the shallow part of the creek branch, and finally the motor stopped and car doors slammed, footsteps on the front porch, the screen  door opening and closing, Mom coming in. I brushed past her, went out the door and headed down to the pasture to get the horse and escape down the road. As I led the horse back past the gate, she was there, looking worried. "Honey, what's wrong- Did he do something...?" No I'm fine, I swung myself upon the horse and trotted off, tears blurring my vision, relief and bewilderment, disgust and anger, confusion.
I loved my Granddaddy. I continued to love my Granddaddy through the years, until he passed away in his late 90s. I later understood there had been other incidences involving other female family members, and even friends of Granny's... and that the family kept things covered up and that my sweet old Granny may or may not have ever had a clue. He sure was a true Gemini, with many different personalities, indifferent of the others. Church deacon, eccentric, farmer, townsman, mindless molester. This can happen in any family. He never went beyond groping, as far as I know, but since all the older girls and women were so closed-mouthed, who knows. I do hope he rests in peace.