Free Hearts Left Behind by Derek Rempfer Page B

size.  Every major business was destroyed and only
a couple ever reopened.  Maybe there was no insurance for the others or
maybe there was and the business owners just took the money and ran.  Or
maybe the collective conscious of the town made a silent decision not to
rebuild.  Willow Grove didn’t have the heart of Chicago.  Willow
Grove had the heart of Willow Grove. 
    In the years that I had lived here, nothing new had
gone up and nothing old had come down.  It was a place and time frozen in
state, perfectly preserved like some ice-age victim woolly mammoth.  There
wasn’t a stone I hadn’t kicked or a tree I hadn’t climbed.  I knew every
house on every street and every person in every house.
    And then Katie Cooper came along and I – like some
overbearing island tour guide - took it upon myself to show Katie the ins and
outs of the town.  I walked her downtown to the United Methodist Church
and let her know that the Sunday service started at nine a.m.  I told her
how the Corwin’s was the place to go when you were hungry and your mom wouldn’t
give you a snack because Mrs. Corwin always offered visitors apple pie or
almond cookies or buns fresh from the oven and still warm.  I showed her
every hidden path and every shortcut and warned her about the unfriendlies like Lyle Weber and Abigail Simpson who would
holler at you if they caught you cutting across their yard. 
    On the last day of our tour, I took her to the train
tracks where I made a big production out of digging around in my pockets for
change.  Truth was , I had exactly two coins in my
pocket – each a shiny new copper penny.
    “Here you go,” I said holding it out.  “A brand new penny.   See, it says 1980 right on
it.  Mine does, too.”
    “Neat,” she said. “What are we going to do with them?”
    “You’ll see.”
    I bent down and pressed my ear against the cold rail
and Katie did the same.
    “Hear that?”
    “Yes, what is it?”
    “A train.”
    We hopped up, laid our pennies on the tracks, and
waited for the big yellow dragon to thunder through with its fire of roars and
whistles.  When it did, it left two squashed and warm keepsakes in its wake. 
I handed one to her.
    “Here, don’t lose it.”
    “What do we do with them?” she asked.
    “Do?  Nothing.   You
just keep them.”
    “Oh, you mean like a souvenir?
    “Yeah, like a souvenir.  Or a
friendship thing.”
    “Cool!” she said. “I’ll keep it forever.”
    “Put it somewhere safe.”
    “Come on,” she said.  “We should get home.”
    We put our pennies in our pockets and walked
home.  The tour had ended.  There was nothing else that I could offer
Katie Cooper.  I’d shown her everything I knew.  Very soon it would be Katie who was revealing secrets
of this town to me.
    When I got home that evening, I put that penny in my
Treasure Box (an old shoebox I kept hidden under my bed) along with some of my
most other prized possessions: a wristwatch
with my name inscribed on the face of it, postcards from traveling friends and
family, a Buffalo Nickel, and few other odds and ends.  I found out later
that Katie ended up losing her penny.  I had always meant to get her
another one, but never got the chance.
     
    “Come on, I want to show you something.”
    Katie turned and tugged me along, though I was
anything but reluctant.  She led me to the train tracks and we walked them
west out of town.  I asked where we were going but she wouldn’t
tell.  I knew that she wouldn’t before I even asked but it would have
disappointed her for me not to show that I was curious and I didn’t want to
disappoint Katie.
    She wore a large, wide-brimmed garden hat that I had
not seen before and it made her seem older.  The hat should have looked
ridiculous on her and it probably did to any other beholder, but not to
me.  To me, it glimpsed the future and I imagined how nice it would be to
someday walk by her side with my own silly hat.  The only hat I