CHAPTER NINE
Charly replaced the receiver thoughtfully. Who would call and then hang up when she answered? Shrugging her shoulders, she assumed it was someone who had reached a wrong number, and went back to the sofa and her book. She had been reading constantly since she returned home, except for a daily walk, as ordered by the doctor. She had been thinking about McKinnon too. It had been so hard in the hospital with no one but her aunt and uncle to visit. She had refused to let them call her parents, because she knew they had been looking forward to the trip. There was nothing they could do for her anyway.
Day after day she lay in the hospital wondering if McKinnon would come in to see her. Day after day passed with no sign of him. And as soon as she was mobile, she stood by the phone often, talking herself out of calling him. Now the worst was over. She was back in her own little house, her health was on the mend, and she had survived without him. Settling back down, she lost herself once more in her book, promising to make something to eat after the next chapter.
The doorbell startled her into jumping up, swearing as the muscles in her abdomen protested. She made her way more slowly to the door, hoping it wasn't anyone important. She had begun wearing a comfortable multi-coloured caftan since her surgery and her hair was swinging around her shoulders, free. Her feet were bare. Pulling the door open, she gasped, and then smiled broadly. "McKinnon. Hi! Come on in." Stepping aside, she held the door as he struggled to the table, trying not to drop anything.
Shoving the flowers at her, he asked abruptly, "Charly, why the hell didn't you call me? Never mind. I shouldn't even ask." Groaning, he pulled her into his arms, his mouth gentle and warm on hers. Kissing her thoroughly, he stepped back and let her go.
"Better put those flowers in water. I think maybe we crushed them a little." Sheepishly, he tried to straighten them.
"We? What do you mean we, McKinnon?" Laughing, she went out to the kitchen and filled a vase. She had trouble keeping her emotions under control, she was so happy to see him. When she returned, McKinnon was standing again, the teddy bear held in his hands, a silly grin on his face. "I think I went a little crazy when I found out what you had been through, Charly. I wish someone had told me when it happened. Nothing would have kept me away." He walked towards her, holding the teddy bear out. "This is for you. I'm not even sure why I bought it. It just seemed the thing to do at the time."
"It was exactly the right thing to do. I've been collecting stuffed bears for years. I have boxes of them in my mother's basement. Maybe I'll bring them over and give them a place to sit in the spare room. After all, this guy would probably enjoy the company." Charly knew she was babbling again but couldn't help it. He was here with her at last.
"Come and sit down, Witch. I want to hear all about it. Was it really bad? If the jolt I had was any indication, you sure didn't have much fun." And he told her about being doubled up with pain the day of her surgery.
"Are you going to go into labour when I have a baby, too, McKinnon?" She teased him.
"I sure would if it was my baby. Oh, Charly, why did you have to bring up that subject? I can't keep my mind off of making love with you as it is. I like your dress, by the way." He was smiling at her, his legs stretched out in front of him, arms across the back of the sofa behind her. One hand was playing idly with her hair, though she thought he was unaware of it.
"How about some Chinese food? Or have you eaten?" He knew they had to get involved in something immediately or he would take her in his arms and forget his better judgment.
Chatting as she worked, setting up plates and cutlery, Charly told him about her hospital stay, her recovery and her enforced retirement. "I hope the company isn't mad at me for goofing off so soon after being hired."
"Of course not. Having emergency surgery isn't goofing off. How did you get to the hospital, by the way? I heard your parents were away when it happened."
"They're not back yet either. I drove myself to the hospital. It wasn't too comfortable, but I made it."
"Damn it, Charly! Haven't you got any sense? Don't you know your appendix could have ruptured? Why didn't you call me?"
She had seen McKinnon withdrawn, sarcastic, passionate, funny and indifferent. But she hadn't seen him angry, until now. And he was furious. It was a nice feeling, to know that he cared so much.
"But it didn't, so don't have a coronary over it, McKinnon. I'm fine, you're fine, the teddy bear is fine, we're all fine, so relax and eat." She slapped a plate down in front of him none too gently and passed him the Soya sauce.
Silence reigned for several moments, until Charly could stand it no longer. "For heaven's sake, McKinnon, lighten up. Stop sulking. We haven't seen each other for eons and we're fighting. I can't stand it!"
"I'm not sulking, for your information. I just don't like to see people take unnecessary risks. And you did. I thought you promised to call me if you had any problems."
"Work problems, McKinnon. And that was before we decided not to see each other any longer. Remember?"
"Don't remind me. Oh, hell, let's just forget it and enjoy the time we have."
They managed to forget their differences for the remainder of a very pleasant evening. They also stayed away from any discussion of their decision not to see each other. Charly was content to enjoy his company for as long as he stayed with her.
"Would you do me a favour, Charly?" McKinnon was sitting across from her, downstairs by the fire, and grinning at her with an almost sheepish look. She wondered what was coming next.
"If I'm able, sure. What would you like?"
"I've been remembering and writing down some of my dreams but I have no idea how to analyze them. If I send some over, would you have a look at them and see what you make of them?"
"Are you sure you want me to see them, McKinnon? Dreams are about as personal as you can get."
"There's no one else I'd trust them with. Besides, I know you'll be tactful. After all, you are a good witch, right?"
"Right. Okay, send them over and I'll do what I can. Some symbols are quite standard, but others will be unique to you. If you would break your dreams down into the major parts for me and indicate what the different things mean to you, it will make it easier to analyze them."
"Can you give me an example of what you mean?" McKinnon was all seriousness now.
"Okay. Suppose you dream of cows. Normally they represent self-indulgence, but since you work with them all the time, they could simply mean work to you. It's also quite important that you describe the setting, the people, colours, activities, whether you are observing or participating, how close you are to the action, the overall feeling the dream leaves you with, and any words, names or number that appear. Sort of like doing a homework assignment."
She threw another log on the fire and sat down again.
"Quite often the messages will be humorous. For example, if you were to dream of being given a new tooth brush with a small horse head on the bristle end, the message would be that you should beware of looking a gift horse in the mouth, probably in connection with dental care. Those are the kinds I like best, because I love puzzles."
McKinnon was laughing, amusement and scepticism both evident in his expression. "Do people really dream stuff like that, or are you putting me on?"
"They really do. I could even show it to you, because it's one of mine. Another time when I asked for a dream to explain a previous dream I couldn't figure out, I dreamed I was having my skull measured to see how thick it was. I woke up laughing and the rest of the dream gave me enough clues that I could figure out the first one."
"Would you show me some of your dreams? It sounds like a fair trade to me. Besides, if I read your dreams with your interpretations it will help me learn how to analyze mine."
"Maybe I will. I'd like to look them over before I give you any of them though. I have dreams going as far back as I can remember, but I didn't always write out interpr
etations. I usually read them over on Sundays from the past week to get some idea of where I'm going in my life, and if there's anything in particular I should or shouldn't be doing. I'll go through last week's dreams and put interpretations on them, then I'll send them to you. What's your mailing address?"
She wrote it out on a piece of paper and tucked it into her pocket. Then she smothered a yawn as she settled more comfortably in her chair.
"Oh, Charly, I'm sorry! I didn't realize it was so late. You must be tired, but I was enjoying myself so much I forgot you're still an invalid." Rising, he walked over to her, and placing his hands on the arms of her chair, leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'll see myself out and I'll send you some dreams first thing tomorrow. Sleep well and dream well."
Before she could rise, he was gone up the stairs in several bounds, and she heard the door closing behind him. She knew why he hadn't wanted a lengthy goodbye. They were just too painful.
Charly found herself re-reading her dreams over the next few days with a totally different perspective. To read them over was one thing, but to have McKinnon reading them and knowing what they meant to her was going to be like letting him into her innermost thoughts. But then, he was willing to let her see his.
She sorted out some of the best for learning purposes, going back over several years. She was thankful now that she had kept them in loose-leaf form, so that she could be selective. To have him privy to all of them was just too threatening for the moment.
She found herself watching for the mailman on Monday morning and again on Tuesday. As soon as he pulled away from the mailbox, she would hurry out to retrieve her mail, hoping for the package from McKinnon. She was burning with curiosity to see what he had been dreaming.
When the package did arrive, it came in the night, and was tucked in between her front doors. She found it when she went out to check the weather Wednesday morning. Rushing inside, she poured a coffee and sat down. With trembling fingers, she tore open the large manila envelope and pulled out the typewritten sheets of paper.
Clipped to the top of the first page was a note, scrawled in his distinctive, firm handwriting.
"Here they are. This goes back to the first one I remember after our conversation on the subject, and includes every dream I've had since. Will keep on writing. Happy translating! T.G."