GREAT SOUTHERN CHAPTER 38

1910

NORA

"Temperature?" Dick Buffi asked, as he passed Jake leaving the canal company office.

"Pretty frosty, Dick. Blossom's in."

"'Preciate the heads up."

"You owe me."

Grantham took a deep breath in preparation and went through the door.

Nora tried. Daniel tried. Two cats strange to each other, one venturing forth with a peace offering and the other, prepared for war, snapping at it. Then regretting it and offering its own olive branch, the rebuked switching positions and snapping back.

Those exchanges, which numbered many, were as secret as their relationship had been—hardly at all in reality, you just can't hide some things, yet rarely spoken of. Glances exchanged, smirks emerged and were either shared or squelched with scowls. The office, for over a year, had ran cold even in summer whenever the two crossed paths. Daniel limited his trips, avoiding the office but going to town to Board meetings he needed to attend. Sometimes Nora needed to attend the same meetings.

Nora left messages to the Director if Daniel's signature was needed and made it a point to not being around if she could guess his arrival time. Daniel sent ten year old Henry Herr, hired as messenger boy and general go-fer, with notes to Nora detailing what the company might need her to do.

The canal was no longer in the builders' hands but under water user control. By keeping Nora and hiring Daniel they bridged the wide gaps in their knowledge. For the most part they followed his directions, though every year's vote brought a new board member in with a new agenda based on his grievances and ignorance.

Nora made him cookies once as a peace offering and he, accustomed to being bitten, declined out of habit. He was hesitant to show weakness, and accepting gifts seemed an expression of that. Later in that day, considering his abruptness as perhaps mistaken, he returned to a spurned woman who rebuked him sharply. Each such event built upon the last, so much so that others heading into the office might, like Dick Buffi, ask for the weather forecast, prepare themselves for 'icy', 'pretty frosty', 'some heat going on in there today'.

Word got around, often through the new board members who were ignorant of the climate. Apprised of the situation, they might—despite being sworn to secrecy—tell their wives after making them promise not to tell, who told their acquaintances in like manner. Daniel was aware of this, it reminded him of a leaky ditch—a 'futile one', John Garrison, the surveyor, once said, 'futile' derived from the Latin for leaky. Garrison liked to drift off into tangents, it was part of his charm.

Word got out, but it rarely reached back to Daniel, for he met every insinuation with a glare of unmistakable meaning. Word of that glare moved as quickly as Nora and Daniel's secret had and, unhindered by oaths of secrecy, spread until no one mentioned Nora to Daniel.

Stopping rumor proved futile—but Nora's energy, Daniel's energy, leaked away, too. Every bump in the road spilled a little more of what verve they had left, as if it were a full grain sack, in the back of a wagon, with a hole in it, soon to be emptied by a bumpy road. The iciness between them melted but wasn't replaced with warmth, instead a kind of dullness entered their voices and their eyes rarely if ever met even when they faced each other. They were efficient in the office, brief but never reaching the level of polite. That would take too much effort. They were beaten.

© 2025 Ralph Thurston