The Fourth Sunrise: A Love Story Read online

  “Oh, I wish. If you meet anyone like that, please let him know where I have been living for the last 33 years, because he has yet to find me.”

  “I’m sorry for being presumptuous,” I said, very apologetic. “It’s a fine line, verifying that a woman is single and also, fishing for her age.”

  “No need to be sorry. Trust me. I try to find him every week. I’m on every singles dating site there is, trying to locate the perfect man for me. It doesn’t matter how many romance novels I write, I can never find my own true love story. That is probably why I do write. I can create my own little fantasy world.”

  “Sharee Shores?”

  “That’s me.”

  “What have you written?”

  “I have a couple of series, but none is more popular than my Jon Sullivan series.”

  “That’s a romance series?” I asked.

  “Very much so. The main character is a hopeless romantic. It is very sweet and heartbreaking at the same time.”

  “Sounds like the story of my life.”

  “I think it’s the story of most of our lives. No matter how much those web sites promise to match me up with someone spectacular—who I’ll have amazing chemistry with—it never fails that I always seem to get the guy who would love to sample the goods first, and then work on the chemistry thing later.”

  “You’ve never met this guy you plan on meeting tonight?” I asked.

  “No, and apparently, it looks like I never will. Looks like just maybe the two of us are being stood up.”

  “I sure hope not. She has never been late before. But then again, nothing ever goes right when we meet anyway.”

  “Okay, mystery man. While we wait, why don’t you tell me about this woman you’re meeting—you said for the fourth time?”

  “Yes. Only the fourth time. The fourth time in forty-four years.”

  “How long?” Sharee asked.

  “Forty-four years,” I repeated.

  “Forty-four years? And you still haven’t married her?”

  “Like I said…it is very complicated. It’s very complicated.” I glanced up at the clock on the wall, and Christine was now thirty minutes late. That was very disconcerting.

  She repeated. “We just might have to come to the realization that we are being stood up together.”

  I repeated again. “I sure hope not.” Just the thought of Christine standing me up put a lump in my throat.

  “You must really be crazy about her after all these years?” Sharee stared across the table at me with a look that was very genuine and honest and I felt like I could open up a tad.

  “Yes, that would be a true statement. She has been the woman of my dreams for quite some time.”

  “That’s a big proclamation, Joel. How did you two meet?” Sharee’s eyes locked into mine and she was very interested in hearing this story. She was being very sweet with her interest but she really didn’t have to make small talk with me.

  “I don’t want to bore you, sweetie.”

  “Trust me when I tell you that real-life love stories never bore me. As a matter of fact, I live to hear them. Remember, I’m a writer.”

  I sighed and smiled and began to speak. “We met a very long time ago, not very far from here.” I paused and said separately, “You know when she does show up, which I’m certain she will, at some point, I will have to stop telling you the story.”

  “I completely understand.”

  I paused and gave her one more chance to back out. “Do you really want to hear an old man tell a story about his first love?”

  “Your first love? This story gets better and better. Now, you have to tell me. I’m such a romantic at heart. I think I would pay good money to hear a person of your stature tell me about his first love.”

  “Stature? I don’t think I have ever been called ‘stature’ before.”

  “All I mean is that you have lived. That is exciting to me.”

  I breathed out deeply and looked out into the dark parking lot. This coffee shop would be open all night because of Deltarado Days. I knew I could wait all night for her. So, I decided to amuse this young lady and begin my tale. “Would you like another coffee or some water?” I asked.

  “I’ll grab another cup of coffee in a little bit.” She looked at me with her brown eyes, eagerly waiting for me to continue.

  “Wow, where do I begin?” I said.

  “Begin on the first night you met her,” Sharee said. “That must be where the story begins.”

  “It is. She was my first love, and to be honest, she has been the only woman I have ever truly loved, at least the way a man should properly love a woman.”

  Chapter Two

  July 1968 – Delta, Colorado – Highway, 4:00 p.m.

  “It was summer of 1968. Civil rights were right on top of us and most folks were unsure what it all meant. Recently, great Americans had gotten assassinated. It was an odd time for everyone. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in April while Robert Kennedy was recently assassinated in June, just five years after his brother, John F. Kennedy. Landmark civil rights legislations were being passed.

  “It was a horrible, hot July day and we were trapped on a hot, musky bus. I was eighteen years at the time. I don’t think I ever looked better in terms of my physique. I was a clean-cut, light brown-haired eighteen-year-old boy. I was a minor league baseball catcher who had an arm of gold and was battling .319 for the Albuquerque Dukes. I was being looked at very closely to possibly being called up to ‘the show.’

  “We were heading back home to New Mexico from up North, returning from a three-week barnyard road trip. Albuquerque wasn’t my actual home. I stayed with a nice older couple during home games. I grew up in southern California in a little town called Indio. For the most part, Albuquerque is just like every other city in the world, just hotter.

  “I remember thinking how I couldn’t wait to get home because the people I stayed with had one of the only swimming pools in town.

  “We were passing through Delta, Colorado, on our team bus. We had all the windows rolled down because there was no air conditioning and the temperature was in the triple digits.

  “I would often doze off for the majority of the bus ride, but the heat was off the chart that day and there was no way anyone could catch a snooze in that type of heat conditions. Our bus was always having engine problems, and today was no different.

  “I smelled smoke and then we all heard a loud kerplunk come from the front of the bus. The bus driver stopped the bus right in the middle of the highway. Cars were whizzing around us, honking, and drivers were giving us the bird. Are you kidding? All I wanted was to get home that night.

  “The coach of our team stood up and told us to meet him outside the bus. We all got out of the bus and the heat was overbearing in the broiling sun.

  “‘Gather around,’ Coach Bottomley said. Coach Bottomley was the manager of our ball club. He insisted on us calling him Coach—he didn’t like Skipper. But with a last name like Bottomley, he shouldn’t be so picky.

  “I had been with the team for the past two months. Right out of high school, I had been drafted by the Los Angeles Dodgers. I played catcher and I threw out nearly 60 percent of all base runners. The majors were looking at me closely. I had a problem though. I had torn my right shoulder muscle in a head-first slide. Sports medicine wasn’t that advanced at the time. The attitude was, if you could run, swing a bat, and slide, then you sucked it up and played through pain. Little did I know at the time that neglecting my injuries would ultimately be the reason why I never made ‘the show.’

  “‘There is a motel about three miles up the road,’ Coach said, looking at a nearby milepost and a foldout map. ‘We are going to have to get a mechanic down here to look at the bus. We have enough money in our budget to get five rooms. That means we’re going to have to be six in a room. It’s going to be dark in a couple hours, so let’s get a move on.’

  “We all grabbed our suitcases from the luggage co
mpartment under the bus and headed toward the motel, all of us on foot. We arrived about an hour-and-a-half later. I was tired, dehydrated, and starving. I had five dollars in my pocket and needed some serious grub.

  “I shared a room with five white players, because that’s how things were done in these days. I was very friendly with all my team members, and I became great friends with a black gentleman on our Triple-A squad. Douglas Ward was a pretty good shortstop who had the same dream that I did—to make the majors.

  “I walked over to the room where Douglas was staying with the other African American players on the team. I knocked on the door. After a moment, Douglas answered the door.

  “‘Hey, Joel,’ he said.

  “‘Do you want to go get a bite?’ I asked.

  “‘Sounds good. I’m starving.’

  “Then I asked, ‘Pat and R.J. coming?’ They were the other two black gentlemen on the team.

  “Douglas said, ‘They are both beat. They like taking advantage that they only put three of us in a room.’

  “‘Ah, the perks of segregation,’ I said, putting my arm around my buddy.

  “‘Your jealousy is embarrassing.’ Douglas grinned at me.

  “Douglas and I headed across the street and over to a diner called Cletus Mess Hall. I looked up to the sky and saw the sun set completely. I had always liked summer nights.

  “We walked in and sat at a booth near the restrooms in the back. The waitress came around the side of the kitchen, looked over in Douglas’s direction and stopped in her tracks like she was playing ‘red-light-green-light.’ The waitress was about forty years old and by the look of the scars up and down her arms, had seen a hard life up to this point. She slowly made her way over to us, shaking her head. She stopped right behind Douglas and looked at me. She stared only at me and made it a point not to look anywhere near Douglas’s direction.

  “‘You want some coffee, Douglas?’ I asked my friend.

  “‘Nah, I’ll take a soda pop,’ Douglas answered back.

  “‘Ask the man if he likes strawberry or cola?’ the waitress said to me.

  “‘Uh,’ I said. ‘You can ask him yourself. He’s right in front of you.’

  “‘I’d rather not,’ she said.

  “‘Well, unless you look my friend in the eye, and ask him for yourself what he would like to drink, we will take our business elsewhere. And by the look of how empty this place is, I can imagine you could use a nice tip right about now.’

  “‘You being serious?’ the waitress asked.

  “‘Imagine treating another human being like a real person. You should try it,’ I said.

  “‘It’s okay, Joel,’ Douglas said to me. He hated when I did this. These days, it seemed I was doing it a lot.

  “‘No, it’s not okay.’ I stared the woman in the face and pointed at Douglas. ‘Do you know you’re looking at the next Jackie Robinson?’

  “‘No one will ever be the next Jackie Robinson,’ she said, interrupting me.

  “‘You’re right, ma’am. You are looking at Douglas Ward, the fastest man in baseball. Just think. If you take his order, someday when your grandkids ask you if you ever met anyone famous you can say, ‘Yes, I did. I met the fastest man in the history of baseball. I met Douglas Ward.’

  “The waitress broke her serious exterior and smiled at me. She looked over at Douglas. ‘You really that fast?’

  “‘Yes, ma’am.’

  “‘How many steals you have?’ the waitress asked. She must have been a baseball fan to ask that question.

  “‘Sixty-seven, ma’am,’ Douglas answered.

  “‘Wow, that is impressive. You guys still have a month left of the season.’

  “‘You a big baseball fan?’ I asked.

  ‘“Yes, I am,’ she said. Then she reluctantly looked at Douglas. ‘What would you have?’

  “‘I would like a strawberry soda pop,’ Douglas said.

  “‘You got it,’ the waitress said, looking Douglas in the eye. Then she looked at me and said, ‘And for you, troublemaker?’

  “‘Just a cup of Joe.’

  “‘Take a look at the menu and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes for your order.’ The waitress walked away and I smirked at Douglas.

  “Douglas smiled and just shook his head at me.

  “I started to say something to Douglas and then I stopped what I was saying and looked up. It was if time had stopped. I saw the most beautiful woman walking through the door. She had long black hair with pale skin. She was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. She was obviously dressed for some kind of rodeo or other event, but to me, it didn’t matter what she was dressed for. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

  “‘Hi, Jill. You mind me hanging our sign in your doorway?’ the young lady asked the waitress. She was holding a sign that read ‘Deltarado Days.’

  “‘You sure can, sugar. You can tape it to the front door.’

  “‘That would be great.’ The woman turned around and our eyes met. She stopped in her tracks and seemed a tad embarrassed. It was an odd moment because it must have only last four seconds but it felt like the moment lasted forever.

  “I don’t know where the words came from, but somehow these words came out of my mouth: ‘So, what is Deltarado Days?’

  “The woman looked over to me and said, ‘You have never been to Deltarado Days here in Delta?’ Her voice was the prettiest sound I had ever heard.

  “‘No, ma’am. I’m not from here,’ I said.

  “‘You’re not? Where are you from?’ She slowly made her way to me. You could tell she was very friendly, and I was smitten.

  “‘I’m from California, but reside in New Mexico.’

  “‘New Mexico? New Mexico is the armpit of this great country of ours.’

  “‘No, ma’am. That would be Highway 68. We broke down on it and were forced to stay the night.’

  “‘Oh, were you on that bus that broke down? You are one of those baseball players?’ She was now standing in front of our table. She was like an angel.

  “‘I sure am,’ I said, never prouder to say that I was a pro baseball player.

  “‘What position do you play?’

  “‘Catcher,’ I said.

  “‘Where do you bat in the batting order?’

  “‘I bat third.’

  “‘Oh, you must be the best hitter on your team,’ she said, smiling.

  “‘That’s not for me to say,’ I said, trying to be humble. We had a few guys who could hit pretty well and Douglas was one of them.

  “‘Then I’ll say it,’ Douglas said. ‘He is the best hitter on our team or anybody else’s team. He is leading the league in batting.’

  “‘What position do you play?’ she asked Douglas.

  “‘I play shortstop, ma’am.’

  “‘Wow, a shortstop and a catcher. I’m impressed. Other than the pitcher position, I’d say those are the two hardest positions in baseball.’

  “‘You’re impressed?’ I said. ‘I’m impressed that you know so much about baseball.’

  “‘Who doesn’t love baseball?’ She smiled at me and my heart rose a few notches. I had a huge smile on my face that I couldn’t hide. I tried to keep my poise, but this girl was so beautiful, she was making it hard. ‘So, you coming tonight?’

  “‘To Deltarado Days?’ I asked.

  “‘Of course. What else is there to do in town?’

  “‘That depends,’ I said. ‘Will I see you there?’

  “‘This was my last stop before going. I’m working the softball-throw booth.’

  “‘Softball throw?’

  “‘Yes, if you know knock down all the pins, completely off the table, you win a giant teddy bear. Or a giraffe, if we are out of teddy bears.’

  “‘I don’t think the guys would let me get away with carrying around a giant teddy bear on the bus. I just might have to give it to you.’

  “‘You’ll have to win it first,’ she said, teasing me.
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  “‘Don’t you worry about that,’ I said.

  “‘You sound pretty confident.’

  “‘I always sound confident when I want something.’ I was clearly flirting with her.

  “‘Is that so?’ she answered, clearly flirting back.

  “‘So, what’s your name?’ I asked.

  “‘Christine Norquist.’ Her eyes lit up. Douglas shook his head at me because this was the way it usually went in every city. But this time was different. I really liked this girl.

  “‘I’ll see you tonight,’ I said.

  “Douglas shook his head at me, knowing I was going to have to sneak out.

  “‘You guys have a curfew?’ she asked.

  “‘We sure do,’ Douglas answered. He picked now to speak up. ‘It’s 9:00 p.m.’

  “That’s too bad.’

  “‘Don’t worry, we’ll be there,’ I interrupted.

  Christine’s eyes darted to mine and she grinned from ear from ear. She was, by far, the prettiest woman in the history of the world. ‘I can’t wait to see if you can win me a prize.’

  “‘It will be my definite pleasure.’

  “‘Well, you have a wonderful night.’ Christine smiled. Looking down shyly, she walked out of the diner. She said goodbye to the waitress on the way out. All I could do was stare at Douglas and say, ‘Wow.’

  “‘You have it bad,’ Douglas said.

  “‘Was it that noticeable?’

  “‘The man on the moon noticed.’”

  Chapter Three

  Present Day – Delta, Colorado - Coffee Shop, 9:45 p.m.

  “How were you able to sneak out?” Sharee asked from across the table.

  “How do you know I went?”

  “There wouldn’t be much else to the story if you didn’t.”

  “That’s true. Of course, I went. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. I was even sloppy about sneaking out. I didn’t care. All I knew was that nothing was going to stop me from seeing her again.”