Chapter 6 - The Debt Clara Wouldn’t Accept
Three weeks later, Clara returned to the Starlight Diner.
Leo returned too.
Alone.
No convoy.
No bodyguards inside.
He sat at the counter.
Clara approached.
“Coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Food?”
“What do you recommend?”
“Leaving a respectable tip.”
He smiled.
She poured his coffee.
“How’s Owen?”
“Better.”
“The hospital bills?”
Clara narrowed her eyes.
“Leo.”
“I’m asking.”
“They’re terrible.”
“I could—”
“No.”
He sighed.
“I knew that was coming.”
Clara leaned against the counter.
“You still think money solves everything.”
“It solves bills.”
“True.”
“Then why won’t you let me help?”
“Because I don’t want to become another debt on your ledger.”
Leo looked at her.
“You’re not.”
“Then stop treating me like one.”
He considered that.
“What do you want?”
Clara shrugged.
“For Owen to finish school.”
“And for yourself?”
She hesitated.
“I used to want nursing school.”
“Used to?”
“Life happened.”
Leo took a sip of coffee.
“What if life happened differently?”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t offer money.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to ask whether you’d apply if you had the chance.”
Clara studied him.
“Maybe.”
“Then apply.”
“And tuition?”
“Scholarships exist.”
“Not enough.”
Leo nodded.
“So find enough.”
She laughed.
“You make impossible things sound easy.”
“I was shot twice and survived because an exhausted waitress happened to have the rarest blood type in the hospital.”
He leaned forward.
“My definition of impossible has changed.”
A month later, Clara applied.
She received partial financial aid.
Then a charitable foundation offered the remainder.
Clara immediately confronted Leo.
“You did this.”
“No.”
“Leo.”
“I didn’t.”
She stared.
“Marco?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Owen.”
Clara blinked.
“What?”
Owen had contacted several medical charities himself, explaining Clara’s situation.
One foundation had accepted her.
That evening, Clara found Owen at the kitchen table.
“You applied for scholarships for me?”
He looked nervous.
“You spent your twenties raising me.”
“I’m twenty-four.”
“Exactly. You complain like you’re fifty.”
She threw a dish towel at him.
He laughed.
Then Clara hugged him.
“You’re supposed to be the kid.”
“Maybe we can take turns.”
For the first time in years, Clara allowed herself to imagine a future larger than the next bill.
Leo remained part of it.
Slowly.
Coffee became dinner.
Dinner became walks.
Walks became conversations neither wanted to end.
And eventually Clara stopped thinking of him as the stranger whose life she had saved.
He became Leo.
May you like
Just Leo.
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