A Rose for Cheryl by George Michael Brown

Author:George Michael Brown [Brown, George Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781612548272
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2012-04-27T14:28:41+00:00

Jim bolted up in bed, his breathing hard and raspy. It took him a few minutes to come to terms with reality. Dressed only in shorts, he jumped out of the bed and raced to the picture in the hallway. He stopped at the painting, almost falling, trying to keep his balance. Through misty eyes, he looked over the deck of the ship only to find all was as it should be. Giving it one more glance, Jim returned to the room, thankful no other hotel patron saw him in his half-naked condition.

He sat at the table and stared out the window at the ocean below, watching the waves gently lapping at the shore. People started to arrive on the beach, taking advantage of the sunshine and the promise of a beautiful day. It would still be a while before he was to meet Cheryl at the pier. He decided to explore the town. While getting dressed, he reflected on his dream. If dreams have meanings, what did this one suggest? Jim set it aside as he exited the hotel room and made his way to the elevator, quickly glancing at the picture one more time as he passed it by.

The temperature was in the low seventies as Jim left the hotel and made his way to the shops in town. A caressing breeze greeted him. He spent the rest of the day going from shop to shop, mostly browsing. He even managed to spend some time sitting on a wooden bench outside the antique bookstore. The breeze off the ocean, the smell of saltwater, and the seagulls flying about all added to the Old World setting. He observed how laid back everyone was. Here, people set their own pace, taking the time to talk to fellow townspeople they met while shopping.

Jim caught a glimpse of the policeman who had questioned him the day before. From the way he greeted people and the way people responded to him, it was obvious he knew everyone in town, many by their first name. As Jim watched the policeman continue his rounds, he noticed an ice cream shop. It was a small, unassuming building, wedged between the hardware store and the furniture store, displaying a neon ice cream cone in the front widow.

A few minutes later, Jim was back on the bench with a double-decker chocolate ice cream cone, trying to keep up with the melting ice cream. With the deftness of a youngster, Jim managed to finish the cone without any of the ice cream reaching his fingers. He sat there a while longer, observing the people as they went about their business—children with eyes wide open with excitement as they entered the ice cream store, a man wearing bib overalls carrying a new shovel purchased from the hardware store, tourists in shorts with legs as white as the northern snow browsing the stores. However, he did not see the old lady selling flowers, nor did he see any old ladies pushing primitive wooden carts.

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