I stepped out of my car.
“What’s going on?”
He pointed toward the ground.
“That motor oil stained your gravel. I’m having it replaced.”
I stared at him.
“Dale, you don’t have to do that.”
He shook his head.
“Yes, Becky. I do.”
Then he reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a key ring.
Attached to it was the shiny penny Noah had given him.
Dale had drilled a small hole in the coin so he could carry it everywhere.
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“I look at this every morning,” he said.
I smiled.
“What does it remind you of?”
He studied the penny.
“That somebody finally stood up for the little boy I used to be.”
A year has passed since Dale dumped those pennies in my driveway.
I still work at the farmers’ cooperative.
My family has better insurance, and we’re doing well. PlanFamily Trips
