The Fourth Sunrise: A Love Story Read online

  “Why did she have to ask?”

  “I was eighteen. I didn’t know then what I know now. I know now all it would have taken was asking me to stay and I probably would have risked the world. At least, I would like to think after all these years that is what I would have done. The truth is, I probably still would have left, thinking destiny would bring us back together.”

  “So, what actually did happen?” Sharee asked.

  July, 1968 – Delta, Colorado - Highway, 6:00 a.m.

  “I gathered myself, and decided it was time to leave. I made my way to the library door, but I didn’t expect this next part to go so fast.

  “While Christine turned off lights and got ready to lock up, I opened the front door of the library. Just at that moment, a blue pickup truck pulled up with an older couple in it. The guy looked at me and asked, ‘Have you seen my daughter?’ I was thinking, your daughter is probably as old as my mother.

  “‘What’s her name?’ I asked.

  “‘Christine?’

  “Oh, my God, he was Christine’s dad! I remember thinking that he was pretty damn old. I turned around and Christine walked out of the library behind me.

  “‘Christine!’ her mother yelled from inside the truck.

  “‘Hi, Mother, I’m okay. I promise. I’m okay,’ Christine said, making her way to the pickup truck.

  “She walked behind the truck and motioned to me. I scurried over to her. I looked at her, shocked that she was leaving so fast. Apparently, we were not even going to get in a proper goodbye. I looked down on her beautiful, long dark hair and gazed into her beautiful eyes. ‘I don’t know how to reach you.’

  “‘You know where I live; the town is small enough.’

  “‘Can you write down your address?’ I asked.

  “‘She certainly will not!” her dad snarled at me. ‘You keep my daughter out all night and you expect her to become a pen pal?’

  ‘“Look sir,’ I said. “I need your address. Your daughter is very important to me. I know it’s hard to understand it right now. It’s even hard for me to wrap my brain around it, but I love your daughter.’

  ‘“Now I’ve heard everything!’ Christine’s father yelled out to me. ‘This boy has clearly lost his mind. Christine, get in the truck or I’m going to call the cops on this whippersnapper.’

  “Christine looked up at me, stood on tiptoe, and kissed me on my forehead. I could tell she wanted to say more, but chose not to do so in front of her parents. ‘I’m sorry I have to go. You know the town I live in.’ With that, we parted for the first time. She went into the back seat of the truck. Her father took off and I was left there standing in the street, about a mile away from my motel.

  “I knew the coaches counted heads at 7:00 in the morning. So, if I ran as fast as I could, I could get back in time.”

  Chapter Ten

  Present Day – Delta, Colorado - Coffee Shop, 12:45 a.m.

  “Did you get back in time?” Sharee asked.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “They never knew you were gone all night?” Sharee continued pressing.

  “Not one coach knew. I don’t think Douglas even knew for sure if I went.”

  “You never told him about her?”

  “I mean that night. I didn’t think Douglas thought I had it in me to go.”

  “Was that not in your personality before that?” Sharee asked.

  “I was a pretty basic guy. I’m still am. The truth of the matter is, the only time in my life I feel like I ever truly lived was when I have been with Christine.”

  “That’s beautiful.” Sharee stared at me as if she was trying to see right through me. Her eyes were expressive and she had a giant smile on her face. “This story is amazing. I would love to hear more.”

  It was becoming real to me that the present-day Christine wasn’t showing up. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I sure hoped she was okay. Sharee, however, was making it bearable, waiting a little longer for Christine. I enjoyed reliving these experiences with Sharee, so I continued, “That first night memory kept me warm on many a night. I guess that was when I first realized that optimism and pessimism could exist in the same thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means that as much as I wanted her and I hoped this it was ‘meant to be,’ the laws of nature were telling me otherwise.”

  “Laws of nature?” she asked with an odd smile.

  “Laws of physics. Laws of the universe. I just have known that being without her after that night has turned out to be the hardest thing I ever had to bear. Just like tonight. She didn’t show up.” I looked down at my watch and it was 11:00 o’clock. I thought about Christine, confused as to why she never showed tonight. She never called my cell. I guess I should have called her, but we have never been late, and maybe I was afraid. But now I felt the need to call her. “Can I ask you a question? Do you think I should call her this late?”

  Sharee smiled and said, “I wouldn’t call her, I’d text her. Ask her if she is okay. Do you text?”

  “I know how to text. I might be old, but I still function in modern society.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed that you didn’t know how to text. Anyway, why don’t you text her? I need to use the little girls’ room, but I do want to hear more about this story.” Sharee got up and made her way to the ladies’ room in the all-night coffee shop that was the location of a library fifty years before.

  I took out my phone. I began to do the necessary things I had to do to my phone to get it so I could text. I was sure there was a faster way, but I’m an old man and I didn’t feel the need to learn how to do things faster that I was only going to do once a year.

  As Sharee went to the bathroom, I flipped my phone around and attempted to text Christine. I had tried to text someone a couple of times before this and I think, only once was I successful.

  I typed in a quick little note on my phone. It read: ‘What happened?’ Short and sweet.

  To my surprise, I received a text back almost immediately. It read ‘1 new message.’ I pressed the button and a message come up: ‘I’m sorry. I just couldn’t come.’

  Huh? What did that mean? Was she in trouble? Did she change her mind?

  I texted back: ‘How come?’

  Then she texted something very odd: ‘Someday, sometime, you’ll know why.’

  What? Huh? What was that supposed to mean? That was it. No more text messages. I didn’t know what I thought. I was dying to see her again. It was heartbreaking that she didn’t come.

  I sighed and I sat back and waited for Sharee to come back out of the ladies’ room. After a moment or so, she came back out and again sat next to me at the table.

  “It looks like she couldn’t make it,” I said.

  “Did you speak to her?”

  “No, I texted like you said. She said someday it will make sense.”

  “Huh? What is that supposed to mean? If you don’t mind, can I read the text?”

  I took out my phone and flipped to my text and handed it to Sharee. Sharee read out loud: “‘Someday, sometime, you’ll know why.’ What kind of cryptic bullshit is that?” Sharee laughed.

  “I know. This whole relationship has been cryptic bullshit.”

  I understood it was getting very late. It was nearing midnight and I wouldn’t want to keep such a woman who I had just met out so late listening to my silly sad tales. So I said to Sharee, “I think it’s probably time for you to get home.”

  “Why? It’s an all-night coffee shop. I’m in love with your story. I have to hear more.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, concerned because this was turning into something larger than I had planned. But what else did I have to do on a night that I was stood up? Also, Sharee was a lovely woman and I enjoyed her company.

  “What about you? Are you getting tired?” she asked.

  “No, I’m pretty chipper. I got a lot of rest today, thinking I would be seeing Christine tonight.”

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nbsp; “Are you okay?” Sharee asked, concerned. She could tell by my body language that I was a little heartbroken by Christine not showing up. “Well, Joel, I think there is a second night to hear about.”

  I smiled at the fact that Sharee seemed particularly fond of my story. It gave me a feeling that maybe the struggle I endured wasn’t so pathetic if a young woman like this would be so fascinated by a true story about my life.

  “Well, before I tell you about the second night, there are a couple of important details you need to know.”

  I continued the story.

  “The next time I tried to see her was January of the following year.”

  “January?”

  “Yes. January,” I said.

  “Why did you wait till January? That was nearly six months later.”

  “I had finished up my year with the Dukes.”

  “They never called you up to the majors?”

  “No, they certainly didn’t. A lot had to do with my batting average. I was batting nearly .319 before I met Christine. The rest of the year I batted .200. My final batting average was .267 and, for the rest of the season, I had just had one more home run after that day.”

  “What happened to your batting average?”

  “My mind was only on Christine. Nothing else mattered. Plus, my shoulder got worse as the season went on.”

  “Why did you wait so long to see her? New Mexico is only one state over from Colorado.”

  “It was a different world then. In those days, every penny I made, I gave back to my family. My dad was on disability and they needed anything that I could give them. Also, when the season was over, I had to rush home. My dad took a turn for the worse and he died that fall.”

  “Wow, I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. That was a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry for asking why you waited so long.”

  “No, it’s an important detail to the story. I didn’t see her immediately because I needed to be there for my family. I went to work immediately after the season ended. I had two goals. Help my family and put a little away so I could take a bus trip to Delta, Colorado.”

  “By January, I had put aside enough money to buy a round-trip ticket to Delta, Colorado. It was actually a ticket to Denver, but Delta was one of its stops.”

  Chapter Eleven

  January 1969 – Delta, Colorado - Bus Stop, 3:00 p.m.

  “The bus dropped me off at the bus station on the south side of town at 3:00 p.m. I had bought a bouquet of flowers at the last stop and made sure that they looked as fresh as they could on that cold winter day.

  “I was so excited I didn’t know what to do with myself. You see, we’d never exchanged numbers or addresses. Everything had happened so fast at the very end of our first meeting that it was impossible for us to exchange anything. All I had to go on was my memories of the greatest night of my life. I had trust in my heart that I had found the woman of my dreams, the lady I was destined to be with.

  “Boy was I wrong!

  “I made my way downtown and I hit Mulberry Street. There must have only been only one girl like Christine Norquist in this town. Everybody must know her.

  “I was right. It didn’t take long for me to hear the wonderful news. The first person I talked to was an older gentleman who owned the local market.

  “He was very happy to tell me that Christine Norquist was now Mrs. Connelly. She had married up with the guy she had previously broken up with before the night she met me. Captain Benjamin Connelly. Believe you me, Captain Benjamin Connelly was the pride of the town.

  “I ended up asking three different town folks and pretty much got every detail of the autumn wedding that happened only one month prior to my showing up. They got married in front of the old Baptist chapel and the whole town was invited. Nearly 800 people showed. Mary Dickson caught the bouquet and was already engaged with her boyfriend. Every last detail made me want to throw up.

  “In the end, the wedding didn’t matter as much as the details of the actual marriage. I heard that they moved to Virginia. That’s right, Virginia. I had used up every dime I had to chase a woman who I believed was the love of my life, only to realize I was just a dope. It was awful.

  “I made my way back to the bus station, with the mangled flowers still in hand. I don’t know why I didn’t throw them away. I kept those flowers as long as I could. I didn’t throw them out until years later.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Present Day – Delta, Colorado - Coffee Shop, 1:00 a.m.

  I stared at Sharee and felt like a dope once again, even years later, retelling the story. Sharee smiled at me and just slowly shook her head. Her eyes were beaming.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Sharee because her face was priceless.

  “It just amazes me how each of us is so precious. And so much can happen that can alter so many things.”

  I guess the story touched Sharee in a way that I hadn’t anticipated. But there was still a lot more to say. I looked at Sharee and said, “We really haven’t even scratched the surface of the story.”

  “I know. We have two more nights.”

  So, I continued where I left off.

  “They got married December 18, 1968, in front of the old Baptist chapel and the whole town showed up and it was the nicest wedding that Delta, Colorado had ever seen.”

  “Hold on, Joel. I have a question for you. So, why do you think she did what she did to you?”

  “Did what to me?” I wasn’t sure if I understood the question.

  “Not wait the appropriate amount of time for you,” Sharee answered.

  Now, this was interesting. “What do you think the appropriate amount of time would have been?” I asked.

  “From how you describe it, I’d say at least a year,” Sharee said smiled at me. It made me feel good that she thought that Christine got married too fast. That was one detail in the story that I never quite understood and wondered what the appropriate amount of time to have waited was, even after all these years.

  “Maybe the romance was all just in my head,” I said.

  “You can’t possibly believe that?” Sharee practically pleaded.

  Ultimately agreeing with Sharee, I said, “Things happen in a certain way that you never second-guess anything. If you think about it, what we shared was an innocent moment in time. We slow danced throughout the night and only kissed briefly.”

  “You said you kissed for nearly a half an hour. That is not briefly to me. That is full make-out session,” Sharee said. “What you need to realize is that love is more than physical interaction. What she experienced with you on that night was real. She wasn’t following what people wanted from her. She was living the way she wanted to.”

  “I guess you can look at it like that,” I said. “All I know is I was broken in pieces. It takes a few years to build that back up.”

  “A few years?” Sharee asked.

  “Well, I had some help.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, with a little twist of fate, I was drafted in 1971 for the Vietnam War. I was sent to Hanoi Vietnam. And I was put in a platoon with my commanding officer being none other than Captain Benjamin Connelly. No one dared called him Benjamin over in Hanoi. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t until months later did I even know his real first name. He was simply known to everyone as Captain Jack. Why? Because. That’s what happens in war. Weird nicknames stick and you would rather be called your nickname than be reminded who you really are and who you were forced to leave behind back at home. I think Captain Jack fell into that category.”

  Sharee’s face lit up. She was as stunned as I was the day I figured it out. “You’ve gotta to be freaking kidding me?”

  I laughed out loud. I never heard Sharee speak so frankly. “So, when I was first told who the commanding officer was to my area, I was told his name was Jack Connelly. Everyone called him Captain Jack. I remember thinking briefly that it was interesting that my commanding officer had the same last na
me as Christine’s husband. That was the extent of the thought. But at that time, the name Captain Jack was as foreign to me as Captain Ron or Captain Bob.”

  “It’s just amazing. This part of the story is amazing. You see, I write in real life. This would be the hard sell to the reader. That out of all of the captains you could have had, you got Christine’s husband. It seems virtually impossible odds.”

  “Unless it’s fate,” I interjected. “Unless something higher is controlling the universe.”

  “I agree with you, Joel…. Go on. This story just got real interesting.”

  “We had been in and out of the jungle for months. No one had a plan, but whatever you’re up against, it’s survive or be killed. We all had lost focus for what we were fighting for exactly. All we knew was, we didn’t want to die. No one had that attitude more than Captain Jack Connelly.”

  “Wow,” Sharee said, her eyes riveted to my face. She nodded for me to continue.

  “I’m not sure what that kind of war does to a man like who endured that awful war for years on end like Captain Jack. I was one of the lucky ones. Maybe not as lucky as the draft dodgers, but I was only there for about six months.”

  “Why only six months?”

  “I broke my leg.”

  “In combat?”

  “No, playing volleyball. By the time the reports got to Washington, D.C., they read as if I had gotten injured in combat. The truth was, I went up to spike the ball and landed on a teammate who had fallen to the ground. I broke my right leg in four different places, completely ending my military career and ultimately, my baseball career.”

  “I thought your shoulder ended your career?”

  “No, my shoulder just ended me having a shot to be a better homerun catcher than Mike Piazza. It forced me to DH and play the outfield and in the minors, those are the most competitive positions. It’s all hitters. I could hit, but never enough to be called up. Then I was drafted and then the broken leg during the war hospitalized me for an additional year. When I was done, there was a chance I could have returned to baseball, but I just chose to do something else.”