It was a fine summer evening, a Friday. The sun still had two more hours of hang-around time, and the gentle breeze wafting in from the west filled the air with the scents of summer...cut grass and honeysuckle. The radar unit sitting on the dash of my patrol car showed a steady "00" as no one was using County Route 2, my assigned post for violators duty. Write tickets, they told me. Lots of them. So I sat here and waited. On most days, I could write three tickets an hour, and that kept my sergeant happy. Friday nights, though, this road was quiet, because it led further up county, in the opposite direction of the city where everyone wanted to go. I used the time to daydream and think and just kind of take a break from a hectic week. Summer Fridays were the best, because of the weather ( I despise cold weather! ) and the general laid- back attitude of everyone. The green blur that went by my windshield shocked me back to reality. I was already turning the key before I checked the radar readout. I didn't need it to tell me that the driver was speeding, but I was slightly curious as to how much this particular driver was going to be 'donating' to the county coffers. Seventy-eight in a forty. A least a hundred bucks, I thought, gunning the motor and hitting the switches for the lights and sirens. My roof rack came alive, as did my high-beams, alternating with the red grille lights. The car sped up, and I dropped the hammer. I was reaching for the radio microphone when something stayed my hand. Normally, procedure requires that I call for backup when a pursuit situation arises, but something told me not to. The driver wasn't running...really, just speeding up a little. County Route Two is a windy, twisty little road that stretched for another six miles, and I kept right on the car's tail, taking every turn like Mario Andretti. I was just enjoying the ride, not worrying too much, because something told me the driver was just...playing. The car wasn't making a serious attempt to evade me, it just wasn't pulling over. The other car, I noted, was a Porsche Cabriolet Turbo, and could have easily left me in its dust. The county line was fast approaching, and at our current speed, we would close the last half mile in under fifteen seconds.

With three seconds to spare, my speeder hit the brakes, her rear lights filling my windshield as the car pulled to the side of the road. Again, I would normally have run the plate through the NCIC from the terminal in my patrol car, but that small voice told me that I wouldn't need to, that the car would come back clean. I wasn't sure what was going on here, but I knew that it wasn't what it had appeared to be at first glance. I wasn't stupid, though. I put the take down lights on, flooding the car in front of me with with several hundred thousand watts of aircraft-grade lights. I worked the thumbreak of my holster so that my Baretta 92F would be within easy grasp, should things turn ugly. I approached the car slowly, watching for any sudden movement. "You were going at quite a clip," I said, loudly. And then, from the driver's side window, came a voice from my past. "Hey, copper! You'll never take me alive!" And then came the giggle. And then came the memories.

Kris...Kris was the girl of my past, of my youth. She came into my life at that time between boyhood and manhood when I was still discovering who I was going to be in this world. I was 13 when Kris moved in next door to me. She was 12, the daughter of an Army officer assigned to Fort Stern. Even at 13, I knew that when it came to the fairer sex, I was not what was considered boyfriend material. Some of my friends had begun to go on dates, attend makeout parties...all those wonderful rituals of growing up that, for some reason, I had been excluded from. The girls my age all dated boys a year or two older. The girl I could date, as it were, were a year or two younger...and none of them wanted to date me, or go into the closet to play Post Office with me, and my invitations to the neighborhood Spin the Bottle games got lost in the mail, I guess. So when Kris moved in next door, you could say that I was a little bit excited. Our houses were set off from the rest at the end of a winding, grassy cul-de-sac, and I knew that I might have a day or two to get into her good graces before she explored beyond the boundaries of our two properties, before the other girls in the area poisoned her mind. Looking back on those days, I remember thinking that it was a lost cause anyway. The first time I saw Kris I knew that I didn't stand any kind of a chance with her anyway.

She was too beautiful, to perfect to be satisfied with a pogue like me. She was so...sweet and innocent and perfect. Tall for a girl, even at 12, standing five and a half feet and seemingly growing more every day. Long blonde hair that she wore in a bobbing ponytail that just added to her almost magical allure, wide-set blue eyes the color of the ocean on a stormy day. Her voice was slightly husky, almost man-like. Her laughter was a song that the birds in the trees themselves envied. I know it sounds like I idolized her, and to a certain degree, that is true. Kris was more of a tomboy than I realized at first. She liked wearing jeans and sneakers and t-shirts. She kept her hair pinned up under a baseball cap that she always wore. One of the great pleasures of my young life was watching her take that cap off and shaking her long, golden hair out. She always looked like a goddess to me when she did that, some magical metamorphosis taking place that turned her from a dusty, baseball-playing, tree-climbing, insect-catching, frog-racing tomboy into a vision of young beauty and innocent perfection. Kris showed up two weeks into the summer, and to my complete surprise, we became fast friends. Best friends, as a matter of fact. The Orioles were our favorite team, and by mutual, unspoken agreement, we would listen to every game together, either on the radio, or watching the night games at one or the other's house. I saved my allowance and bought her a fitted Orioles cap as a present. It became her pride and joy, and she wore it everywhere.

Seeing her in that cap, and seeing the fat lip she gave Bobby Chambers when he stole it off her head made me feel proud. Kris and I spent that first magical summer together, doing all the things kids do together. Climbing trees, taking long walks in the woods, spending entire afternoons flat on our backs, staring at the clouds, talking about Important Things like Life and Love and The Meaning Of Everything. She had little time for Love, she told me.

She thought she was ugly and fat. That was about as far from the truth as you could get and still speak English, and I didn't hesitate to tell her so. She thanked me, but I could tell by her expression that she didn't believe me. As I got to know Kris better, I also understood a little of why she was the way she was.

An only child, it was obvious to me that her father had wanted a son. The way he talked about Kris, the way he treated her, made me hate him quickly. He called her "TuffStuff," and was constantly treating her like he would a son. He once told her, in front of me no less, that she had better learn a trade, because no guy was going to want to marry her, ever. I saw the hurt and the shame in Kris's eye, and I wanted to punch and kick and bite her father until he apologized. The fact that her father was a US Army Ranger, a Major in command of an entire Battalion, made me reconsider my actions. The man was huge; he could have snapped me in two with his little fingers. The summer ended, and school began. One of the first social events of the year was the Sadie Hawkins turnaround dance. When I saw the posters going up in the hallway, I got a little depressed and morose. I knew there weren't going to be any girls shyly coming up to me, wondering if I would say yes. That's just the way my existence was. When the girls went down the mental lists as to who they would ask, my name just never came up. Kris and I were still close, but she had found some other friends, and we didn't spend as much time together as we'd used to. It was hard, but I took great pains not to let her know how much I missed her.

She needed to have other friends, I felt, other, more popular friends, lest her entire school social life be ruined by her association with me, the outcast. So you can imagine my surprise when Kris asked me to go to the dance with her. I accepeted immediately, and instantly began wondering what was behind the invitation. Kris explained, haltingly, that she wanted to go to the dance badly, but didn't know any boys well enough to ask, and was sure that anyone she did ask would have turned her down. So I kind of won by default. She was glad, she said, that she was going with 'a friend,' and that she would be able to meet people there. The phrase 'a friend' rang in my head like the death knell of my social life. I understood what the parameters of the evening and of our relationship were, and just gave silent thanks that I was going with someone. It was at that point that I knew I was in love with Kris. Quietly, desperately...but still in love. The night of the dance will stand out in my memory for the rest of my life. I put on my best clothes, what might have been called "Sunday Clothes" had my family been religious. I went over to Kris's house to pick her up, and knocked on the door. There was a wait of perhaps thirty seconds, and then the door opened. Kris stepped quickly out and shut it behind her. I turned at the sound, and felt my breath leaving me, my throat locking. Gone were the jeans and t-shirts.

Gone was the by-now dusty Orioles cap I'd given her seemingly a thousand years ago. Gone was the rubber-banded ponytail she wore to school most mornings. Replaced, instead, by a stunningly beautiful little girl wearing a gorgeous royal blue party dress. It came down to just below her knees. Her long blonde hair had been washed and brushed, and it cascaded around her shoulders and neck like waves of hand-spun gold. "What?" she asked, seeing my dumbfounded expression. "You...you're beautiful!" I managed to croak out. Kris punched me in the shoulder. Hard. "Shut up!" she said, but there was the smallest hint of a smile in her voice. "Don't say that.

It's not true." I started to open my mouth to argue with her, and then thought better of it. "C'mon," she said, tugging at my arm,

"Let's go." We walked to the party silently, me scuffing the soles of my shoes on the sidewalk, Kris looking off in the distance with this look of intense concentration on her face. We didn't talk, didn't say a single word to each other. We got to the dance, and I knew that I was the luckiest guy there. None of the other girls could even hold a candle to Kris...and they knew it. Seeing the looks of jealousness and outright bitchiness Kris got from the other girls made me feel proud and excited that she was my date.

Well...that wasn't exactly true. Kris and I had arrived together, and I had every intention, at that point, of leaving with her. But as I was to discover, I wasn't her date. Not by a long shot. The dance was held...where else? In the gym. Streamers dangled from the ceiling, and a low-grade garage band was pounding out tunes from The Eagles and Bob Seeger in one corner, drowning out most conversations. A long table filled with refreshments occupied one corner of the room. I mimed drinking with my hands and then raised my eyebrows, and Kris nodded, so I went off to get us some punch.

Returning with two paper cups, I saw Kris and Billy Warner standing, talking. Kris had her back to me when I came up, and the band had just finished a song. "I said, you look beautiful tonight!" Billy said, a little loudly. I winced, waiting for Kris to belt him, and then was both surprised and hurt by what happened next. Kris laughed this nervous little giggle, looked down at the floor and said, "You really think so? Thank you." At that moment, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I'd said the exact same thing to her on her porch, and gotten a punch in the arm. Billy had said it, and gotten the reaction I wanted. The smile, giggle and thank-you. And then it all became clear. What I had said didn't matter to Kris, wasn't important to her, because...because it had come from me. I guess she felt that since we were friends, it really didn't matter what I thought. She wanted me to think of her as a friend, not as a girl, so my feelings for her towards that end were...extra, unimportant. Make no mistake. I knew that Kris didn't mean to hurt me, wouldn't have said those things for the world had she known the effect they ended up having on me. But that didn't lessen the pain one iota. That's when I began to understand what role I was going to play in the lives of all my female friends. I was always going to be the best friend, the surrogate big brother. They would take the flattery I offered in the spirit in which they thought it was intended, that of a friend who was 'required' to say such things. On that warm fall night, that scent of sweat and moisture that seems to be in every school gym in the world filling my nostrils, the sounds of the band pulsing against my eardrums, I watched silently for almost ten minutes as Kris flirted with Billy. She laughed at his jokes and tossed her hair, and even went so far as to scuff the toe of her shoe back and forth on the floor when Billy told her she had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. When he asked Kris if he could call her, sometime, maybe? I closed my eyes and wished with all my heart and soul that she would tell him thanks, but no thanks. Her quick and eager acceptance made another little piece of my heart break off and float away. Billy left, smirking at me over Kris' shoulder as he walked away. She caught the expression and turned to see me there. I smiled my best smile and handed her the cup I'd brought.

It was a paper dixie-cup, and was dented from where I'd been gripping it. She took and sipped from it, her eyes finding and tracking Billy Warner across the room. The rest of the dance passed slowly. About six different boys came up to her and asked her to dance, and she did with all of them. She and I danced, but she was always looking elsewhere, following the boys. I just watched her, entranced by her subtle and captivating beauty. And truth be told, I felt like an ass, because I knew that she would never look at me the way I was looking at her. I wasn't in Kris' future as anything but a friend, and a little part of me died that night. But the worst was yet to come. With twenty minutes left to go before the dance ended, Kris came up to me. "Uh...Dan, can...um..." I thought I knew what was coming, and I was right. "Billy wants to walk me home, and I was wondering if..." I let her off easy, because at that moment I wanted to be anywhere else but there. "Sure," I said quickly. "No problem. Have fun. Call me tomorrow." She smiled and I smiled back, and I turned on my heel and left. I walked home...alone...and knew with a certain sureness and sadness that that was the way I'd be spending most of my life anyway. As good a time as any to get used to it, I supposed. The walk home seemed to take three times as long as the walk over had. I was in my room (which faced Kris's house) working on my tie when I heard noise through the open window. I got up and walked over and saw Kris and Billy on her front porch. They were standing in front of her door, talking quietly. And then they fell silent, and Billy started... leaning towards Kris. I was rooted to the spot, powerless to move, watching this happen like you watch a car accident happen. You can see it coming, but you know it's too late to do anything, and it's all in slow motion. They kissed, and I wanted to scream and shout.

That was my kiss, the one I'd earned. I'd been Kris's friend, I'd fallen in love with her, I knew all her secrets. I knew her favorite color was royal blue. I knew her middle name was Ethel ( a name she hated,) and I knew that her father thought she was fat and ugly. I knew that her cat's name was Mr. Cheevers and that her mother liked to sing "Amazing Grace" while doing the laundry. Kris and I had a thousand and one experiences together, an entire summer of history that this...boy couldn't begin to touch. That was my kiss, with my girl. And Billy was getting it. They pulled apart.

The kiss hadn't lasted more than a second or two, but all that had flashed across my mind in that time. Billy pulled back further, and then Kris lunged at him, kissing him back. This kiss lasted longer, and I felt the tears starting, hot, fat drops of salty water slowly filling my eyes only to spill out and run down my cheeks. That kiss ended, and Billy turned to leave just as Kris turned to go into the house. As you can probably guess, she turned towards me, saw the light, looked up, and saw me standing there crying like a baby. I just turned away from the window and went to bed. Things between Kris and I...changed after that. There was a new coolness, a new distance between us. Kris had seen me, had seen the manifestation of my feelings for her with her own two eyes. As much as she was my friend, that's all she would ever be, and Kris didn't want to lead me on or encourage me. Even at that young, tender age, she understood more about the dynamics of our relationship than I did.

What I did was try and forget how much I loved Kris. I put it away, in a secret place deep inside, and worked to rebuild the friendship. Kris and Bill started dating, as much as you can date at that age. They would go for ice cream or go to an afternoon movie together, always holding hands, always staring into each other's eyes. Billy took every opportunity to kiss Kris when I was around, and it drove me quietly insane. Kris eventually broke up with Billy, but the damn had been broken. Kris was a beautiful young woman and she had no trouble finding suitors. I had taken to watching her on her front porch with my lights turned off. Kris was always proper and virtuous, never allowing more than a peck on the cheek and a fast hug. It still hurt like hell to watch, though.

Kris and I grew further apart. She was popular now, both with the boys and the girls. She ran for Sophomore class president and won, with a lot of help from...me. I campaigned for her, put up posters, did everything her campaign manager asked me to. When she won, and made her short acceptance speech, she thanked everyone who had given time and effort on her behalf...except me. I felt my face flush with anger and embarrasment as she walked off the stage. She caught my eyes, and silently mouthed the words, "Thank you," and kept walking. That was it. Since I was a year ahead of her, my prom came first. But Kris was dating a kid in my class at that time, and I knew she was going, too. As you can probably guess, I went stag.

Kris looked beautiful in her special dress. She was 16 then, a gorgeous young woman in the full bloom of her young life. Her date, Richard, was the handsomest kid in our class, and they made a wonderful couple. I watched them slow dancing around the gym, eyes locked together, a little smile on her face. It was late in the evening, about twenty minutes until the entire thing was over. I was staring at the streamers taped to this ring hung from the center of the ceiling when I felt this tap on my shoulder. I looked over as Kris sat down in the empty chair next to mine. "Dance?" she said softly. I nodded and stood. I wanted to dance with her very, very badly, but didn't want her to know <how> badly. We moved to the floor just an an old Elvis tune started playing. "I Can't Help Falling In Love (With You)" We danced slowly, at arms length, even as I tried to bring her closer. We stared at each other, and I felt something... break loose inside me. I was six days away from graduation, and college called. This was Kris' way of saying goodbye, her final gift to me. Or so I thought. The dance ended, and I leaned in and quickly kissed her on the cheek, and squeezed her hand. "Thank you," I said sincerely, turned and left. I walked home (again,) that same walk I'd taken four years ago. I got home and trudged upstairs, thinking about college and my future, trying to forget my past and Kris. But it wasn't to be. In my bedroom, sitting on my bed, was the dusty, creased Orioles cap. No note, nothing. Just the cap. It looked lonely and forlorn sitting there, and I joined it, running my fingers over it, thinking back to that first summer, the seemingly endless days spent making memories, memories that were going to have to last a lifetime for me, because I knew there wouldn't be any more. When I came home from college and joined the local police department, Kris' family had moved. Her father had been promoted and transferred, and Kris was...gone. A new family lived next door, an elderly couple who had retired and were spending their twilight years in the house the love of my life once lived in. They turned Kris' bedroom into a sewing room. That was four years ago. I was 22 at the time, Kris was 21 and somewhere else. It was four years later, now. I was 26, and Kris was 25, and she was in the car, laughing that same laugh. "Hey, copper! You'll never take me alive!"

"Kris?" I asked, my hand still on my gun. I knew it was her, but I was still careful. "Dan!" she squealed, getting out of the car and running into my arms. Her hug was ferocious and tight, and I found myself wrapping her up in my arms, pulling her closer. She smelled wonderful, just the way I remembered from those summers almost fifteen years go. We pulled apart, and I got my first look at her in eight years. The time had been kind to Kris. She was a beautiful young woman, mature and luscious. Her breasts were full and firm, held in a tight grasp by the black leotard top she wore, and were pressed together by the size-to-small leather vest she was wearing. Her tight, round butt was molded by the snug jeans she wore. Long, slim legs were tucked into cowboy boots. Her hair was kinky now, either naturally or by some beauty parlor magician, and it looked wonderful. "I stopped by the station, and they told me you were out here looking for speeders, so I figured I'd let you finally catch me!" I just smiled and hugged her again. "When do you get off?" she asked. I told her that my tour would be up at midnight. "Would you like to...oh, I don't know...go out for a drink or something?" I agreed, and she told me to meet her at Finnegan's, a local pub. She turned to get back into her car, and then stopped, turning back to me to kiss me quickly and chastely on the lips. "It's so good to see you again, Dan!" she enthused. Kris got in the car and was gone. I spent the rest of my tour in a daze.

Three people blew by me at over sixty miles an hour, and I let them all go. I was in too good a mood to chase anyone, let alone write any tickets. Midnight came, and I rotated out, chaning into street clothes and taking my Baretta and shield with me. Department regulations required that I have my gun and sheild at all times, but I wasn't thinking about enforcing any laws that night. My mind was filled with questions. Climbing into my PathFinder, I drove over to Finnegans in two minutes flat, a trip that normally took ten. Walking in, I spotted Kris talking to two guys at the bar.

Spotting me, she excused herself and walked over to greet me.

Throwing her arms around my neck, she gave me a kiss that took my breath away. It was a close-mouthed kiss (no tongue!) but it still shocked me to my socks. "God, it's sooo good to see you!" she said, smiling up at me, her arms still around my neck. Her hands dropped to my waist, and she felt my pistol, snug in it's inside- the-pants holster. "So, is that a gun in your pocket-?"

"I'm just happy to see you," I finished. "But yes, it's a gun." We cracked up at the stupid joke and made our way to the bar. The two guys she'd been talking two had vanished, and she didn't even give them a parting glance. We sat and I ordered a beer. "So," I asked, "What are you doing in these parts?"

"Well...I finished medical school, and...I'm back."

"Back? Back where?"

"Back here. I've decided to start a family practice here. I'm going to be the new town doctor. You can call me 'Doc.'" That news, frankly, blew me away. "Really..." I said, not sure, exactly, what this meant. Kris was apparantly back in my life...but in what capacity? "You don't sound very excited, Dan." There was soft reproach in her voice, and I moved quickly to control the damage. "I just thought that I'd never see you again."

"Didn't you get any of my letters?" That shocked me. "No. Not one. What letters? I never got any letters from you!"

"I...gave them to your mother to mail to you after you left for college. When I left, I mailed them to my parents, and my mother gave them to your mother...and you didn't get any of them? Not one?" I nodded, suddenely understanding. My mother knew how I felt about Kris, and knew how Kris, at the time, felt about me. Trying to protect me, I suppose, she hadn't given me a single one. "I thought you hated me," Kris said softly. "I kept apologizing in my letters for...ignoring you. For not..."

"Shh," I said, holding a finger to her lips. "Don't worry about it. I got over it. I...went on."

"So," Kris said brightly, after a minute, "What's going on in your life? Got anyone special?"

I snorted. "You know better than that." She heard the hurt and lonliness in my voice and just let it sit there.

"Still have my hat?" she finally asked. I nodded. "Why did you put it on my bed?" That had been bothering me for nine years. Kris took a while to answer, sipping at her beer as she framed a reply. "Back then...on the night of the prom, I wanted you to have a fresh beginning. You were going off to college, and I was still home, in town. I wanted you to move on, Dan. I knew how you felt about me.

Hell, the whole school knew! I didn't think it was fair for you to carry around all that baggage...especially since I couldn't return the feelings."

"So why'd you write me?" I challenged. Kris sighed.

"Because once you were gone...you know the old saying. You don't appreciate something until after it's gone." At that moment, I remembered another old saying. 'If you love something...let it go.

If it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't it never was.' I had let Kris go, and now she was back. Was she mine? Kris and I spent that night catching up on nine years of each other's lives. I told her about college and being a cop in a small town. She told me of college, and medical school, and her internship. She'd graudated a year early from college, and then finished medical school in three years instead of two. "I was looking for something. What, I didn't know. But I do now." I left that alone for the moment. Too many explosive, voilitile emotions surrounded that. Kris was leaving me openings left and right...and I was determined to be sure what she was thinking before I made my move. If she was hinting, one more day or week or month wouldn't make a difference. If she wasn't, and was just making conversation, I couldn't stand the pain and the humiliation again. We went our seperate ways that night, Kris kissing me again before she got into her car. I drove home and fell into a deep, restless sleep. I dreamt of the prom, only this time we were adults, and Kris was my date, and she was wearing that same dress, only in adult proportions, and the cowboy boots, and we danced every dance together in an empty gym, just the two of us. I had four more four-to-midnight shifts left to go before I rotated to midnights, and three days off before I had to start midnight-to- eight shifts the following Saturday night. Those four shifts I spent thinking about Kris and I...together. She had been hinting the entire time that night at the bar, and I was trying to work up the courage to call her up and ask her out. Finally, I did it.

Wednesday night, I was in my house (the same house I'd grown up in, my parents long retired to Florida,) pacing in the living room, staring at the silent phone, letting it mock me. Nothing ventured, etc, I thought, and sat down. Unfolding the bar napkin that Kris had scrawled her telephone number across, I dialed the seven digits with a shaking hand. The phone was answered by a machine, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd already rehearsed the message I'd leave on the machine. It was easier to talk to the machine, because it couldn't say no. And the message I'd leave would give me an easy out. "It's Dan," I said after the beep. "It's nine-thirty Wednesday, and I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me Friday night. If you do, call me at home. Leave a message if I'm not here. If I don't hear from you... I'll understand. Talk to you-" There was a click on the line, and then Kris, out of breath. "I heard the phone ringing when I pulled into the driveway," she gasped, "and almost broke my key off in the lock when I heard your voice. Give me a second..." She caught her breath, and I heard sitting noises in the background: the scrape of a chair against a kitchen floor, the weight of her body settling into it. "Dan...are you asking me out on a date?" My blood turned to ice and I wanted to die. Another ten seconds, and the messsage would have been safely with the machine. Forty- eight hours of silence from her, and I would have realized that once again I'd made an asshole out of myself, that there was no way in hell this intelligent, sexy woman would ever want any part of a pogue- "Dan?