Malibu Love Story: A Novella

Chapter 21: Coming Home

AN: Last chapter, okay? I might expand this to full-novel length for publication, I'm not sure yet; I feel like Reed and Duncan might have more to say, more story to tell.

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Three years later.

Duncan sat in the chair of solitude contemplating the ocean. It was mid-November, so the summer people had left, and he had the beach pretty much to himself. The surf rolled in, one perfect wave after another, and there were even a few intrepid surfers out in the water. Malibu wasn't known for its high surf, but nevertheless they waited hopefully.

He shook his head, still not used to his short hair. He'd cut it for his recent movie, and it would be months before it was back to the pony tail length he was accustomed to. He thought about going to get his laptop, but decided against it; after all, the point of being in the chair of solitude was to be completely alone, wasn't it? No distractions?

The article about Reed had been interesting, though, and he wanted to read more about her. She'd written a book about self-discovery, called Beach Combing, which was getting rave reviews. Duncan had of course read the whole thing, from cover to cover, as soon as he heard about it, and had even contemplated trying to reach her. The article didn't mention where she lived, though, only that she was doing a book tour. Mika, his PA, could probably find her, but then it wasn't as though he was that hard to find, was it? Reed could certainly locate him.

If she wanted to.

Duncan was startled out of his reverie by the arrival next to his chair of a little person. A tiny person, really. He had very little experience with kids, but he would have been surprised if this child had been on the planet for three years. She had curly brown hair and huge brown eyes, and two even, neat rows of small teeth, which showed in a bewitching grin.

He smiled at her, looking around for her grown up, for surely she wouldn't be wandering on the beach alone?

The toddler let loose an absolute barrage of French in Duncan's direction, most of which sailed far over his head. He thought he might have heard "bon jour," and the words definitely ended on an upturn of tone, indicating she'd asked him a question. Hearing the words pour out of her mouth made her sound like some sort of genius.

"Quoi? Quoi?" Duncan asked, pretty sure he'd just asked, "what?" and desperately trying to remember his high school French.

The little girl laughed, a delicious sound in the warm afternoon. "I forgot I'm in America now, and need to speak English first," she said in perfect English. She was wearing a white dress with sunflowers all over it, along with white saltwater sandals.

"Yes, please," Duncan said, relieved. "My French is not very good."

"Mine is," the child announced. "I live in Paris with my mother."

"Your English is very good, too," Duncan told her. "Is your mummy American?"

She nodded, looking at Duncan curiously. "Your English sounds different than mine, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I'm from a country called England."

"I've been there!" the girl announced. "We rode a big Ferris Wheel called the London Eye! Is that where you're from?"

Duncan nodded. "Not London, but nearby," he told her.

"Where's your mummy now?"

The child pointed a chubby finger.

Far down the beach, Duncan could see someone, walking toward them.

"Why are you way up here all alone?" Duncan asked. "Shouldn't you stay closer to her?"