AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Today's both happy and sad: it's the day we append "Completed" to the Wattpad listing for DUBY'S DOCTOR.  Thank you for reading, voting, and commenting. Please take a moment and leave an honest review (even if it's only "I liked it") on Goodreads (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29656137-duby-s-doctor), Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/Dubys-Doctor-Iris-Chacon-ebook/dp/B01CRF31RO), or Smashwords (https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/564444).

Enjoy the final chapter of DUBY'S DOCTOR.

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By the time Jean and Mitchell's transport docked and they began to climb wearily from the Zodiac to the pier, the SWAT team lieutenant and Frank Stone were arriving from the restaurant building at a run. When the four of them met on the pier, Stone grabbed Duby and wrapped him in a desperate bear hug, blinking moisture from his eyes.

Duby did not release Mitchell's hand, and Stone backed off long enough to reach for her and bring her into what was now a three-way hug. Mitchell began sniffing back tears, also.

Duby pulled back from the group hug, "What is the matter? Why is everyone crying? Everything is fine now."

"I don't know what you're talking about, boy. I never cry," growled Stone, and he sniffed.

"Thank you for coming to help me, Frank Stone."

"You're very welcome... Jean." Stone patted Mitchell's shoulder and stepped back to face the couple.

Duby had moved from holding her hand to circling her waist with one arm, keeping her close to his side. She was resting her head against his chest, as happy and natural as a kitten nestling on a sunny windowsill.

Stone said, "I didn't do much, as it turns out. Doctor, you nearly gave me a heart attack when you swam out to that boat."

Duby said, "Me, too."

A policeman arrived with two blankets and said, "Us, too" as he wrapped one around Mitchell's shoulders. He handed the second blanket to Duby.

Stone reached over and helped wrap the blanket around Duby's bare shoulders. It was clear that Duby would not relinquish Mitchell's hand simply to keep himself from freezing in the sea breeze.

From the direction of the parking lot, they heard shouting in rapid French. Duby, being the tallest in the group, was first to spot the source of the voice. "Maman is here."

"Why am I not surprised?" Stone said, producing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping away the evidence of his tears.

"Jean! Jean, mon cher!" Mandy Stone shouted when she spotted him in the center of the small throng on the pier. She swept through the gathering, a short, round, unstoppable package of motherly love, and threw herself into Jean's arm, clinging to his neck. Mitchell patted Mandy on the shoulder comfortingly and smiled, with absolutely no idea what Mandy was saying. French words spewed from the lady's lips with the speed of machine gun bullets. She paused only when she needed to draw breath or wipe at her copious tears.

Jean was trying to answer her, to calm her and tell her everyone was all right. At least, Mitchell thought that's what he was doing. He was speaking French, too, and because Mandy seldom paused, most of the time they were both speaking at once.

After a minute or so, Mandy had quieted enough to breathe more-or-less normally and converse in English. She had hugged Mitchell, also, and even allowed her husband to put his arm around her shoulders and pull her a few steps back from the exhausted couple.

They heard the second Zodiac rev its engine and pull away from the Do Bee 2. When they turned to look, they could see policemen and paramedics escorting a haggard, bloody Iturralde Iglesias toward the pier and a waiting ambulance. Iglesias sported a grapefruit-shaped white bandage covering his right hand.

The lieutenant stepped up to Duby and, after shaking hands and welcoming the couple back from their unfortunate ordeal, asked Duby and Mitchell to come to the police station to make formal statements. "I'll drive you there and bring you back," he told them. He didn't know that Duby was still only learning to drive, but it was clear to any onlooker that both the man and the woman from the sailboat were too tired and emotionally shaken to be trusted behind the wheel of a car.

"Get some rest, son," Frank Stone told Duby. "You, too, Doctor."

Mitchell smiled and nodded her thanks.

"Yes, and you should take at least one day to stay home and recover from all of this," Mandy insisted. "And, on Sunday, after church, you're both coming to our house for lunch. D'accord?"

"Oui, Maman," Duby answered. "We will have lunch together ... all four of us. And thank you again, Frank Stone. Without your help, this would have been a very sad day, I think."

"Yes, thank you," said Mitchell.

The lieutenant escorted Mitchell and Duby to his car, where he seated them in the back seat. Frank and Mandy Stone watched the car until it had driven out of sight, then they walked hand-in-hand toward the parking lot where Mandy's car was parked.

Duby and Mitchell sat as close together as two people could get, in the back seat of the police cruiser. Their hands remained entwined, as they had been since before they had left the Do Bee 2, headed for shore. Neither of them wanted to relax their grip, much less completely release their hold, on the other person.

Looking down at their clasped hands, Mitchell said pensively, "Would you really have sailed your boat all the way to Cuba for that man?"

To her surprise, Duby laughed.

"What's so funny? That man would've killed you if you didn't take him there, and he would've killed you if you did take him there. How is that funny?"

"It is funny, cheri, because I have no idea in the world how to sail a boat!"

"You're kidding! But you live on a sailboat!"

"Oui, I live there because Dubreau lived there. But, in truth, I only sleep there, cheri. And, I know no more than you about spear guns, either."

Mitchell looked at him incredulously for two seconds, and then they began laughing together.

"Then, I guess it's a good thing I showed up to rescue you, isn't it!" she said.

"Ah, oui, it is. But, next time you come to rescue me, please wear more clothes."

"I thought I should try to appear shallow and dumb and, y'know, harmless. Kinda throw old Churro off his guard."

"And so, you became Heather."

"Right. Everybody knows a Heather sometime in their life, even if she doesn't actually use that name."

They were quiet for a moment, then Duby said, "Michel, will you make me a promise?"

"Anything, Johnny."

He raised their clasped hands and kissed hers. "Promise me you will never, ever again call me 'Scooby Dooby.'"

She laughed and answered, "Okay, I promise."

"But, you can be Heather again sometime, if you want," he teased. "I liked her."

"Oh, you did, did you?"

"Oui, I liked Heather – not as much as you, Michel, of course!"

"Of course."

"And I have a confession to make: I did sort of like your tiny red swimming suit. I did."

"I know," she said. "I could tell, actually." She winked at him.

He smiled. "I just do not think you should wear it in public."

"Okay."

"Ever again."

"Okay."

"But, do not throw it out."

"Okay."

"Just keep it, you know, for at home."

"Okay."

They exchanged a soft kiss on the lips, which they cut short because they were aware of the lieutenant's eyes in the rearview mirror.

After a short period of quiet, she said, "I don't want you to go back to that boat."

He studied her face.

She opened her soul to him with her gaze.

"Okay," he said.

"Not just for tonight."

"Okay."

"You should never go back there."

"Okay."

"You should sell it."

"Okay. And then what?"

"Well, after you sell it, you could ... buy a car, maybe."

"Okay, but Michel, where will I go, if I don't go back to the boat? I have to live somewhere."

She was quiet for a long time. She looked away from him and watched the city passing by the car window. Finally, she said, without turning toward him, "Even though today was so horrible ... I was sure we were going to die. I was scared out of my mind sitting on that boat with that terrible man. ... But, even with all that..."

She turned and looked into his eyes. Tears glittered in hers as she said, "Even with all that, I was happy. Deep inside, I wasn't missing a part of me anymore. I thought that man was going to murder us, but deep down, I was happy. Is that crazy?"

He shook his head slowly and, with a shy half-smile, he said, "I know. I was happy, too."

"I want you to come home," she said.

"I would like that, cheri, but to do that, we will need to complete phase two."

"Phase two of what?"

"Phase two of my master plan."

"You have a 'master plan'?"

"Oui."

"Okay. What is phase two, then?"

"If I am to live in your house and make it my home, I will have to become your husband."

"Oh. Sure. I know. I know that. Catholic school, right? Sister Elizabeth would never understand. Okay. It's a good plan. I'll agree to that."

He gaped in surprise. "You will?"

"Yes. Why not? I love you. We rescue each other quite nicely."

"We do, that's true. And, I love you, too. But, Michel, what about the difference in our ages? Are you no longer worried about that?"

She sighed. "Well, to tell the truth, I wish you were a couple years older. And, of course, I wish that I were a year, or five, younger. But, if our souls are eternal, then a couple years one way or another is not enough to count, really. And, given your past record, I'm afraid if I don't stay close and keep an eye on you, you won't live to get any older!"

He bent and kissed her again, longer and stronger this time. When he lifted his head again, he said, "So, it is settled. I will be your husband, and you will be my bodyguard."

She laughed. "And, just for my information, before I take on this job, do you have many other enemies like old Churro, who are likely to emerge from your past with evil intentions?"

"I really do not know," he said with a Gallic shrug. "I guess we will find out."

"Hmm," she said, and laid her head on his shoulder. As she let her eyes drift closed, she asked, "Do you like cats?"

"I really do not know."

"Hmm. I guess we'll find out."

A few quiet moments later, he whispered, "Do you like pirate books?"

But, she was already asleep.

THE END

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thanks for reading and for sharing your opinions. You wonderful readers are the purpose behind all of a writer's lonely hours of hard work. 

Leave your comment below on whether Mitchell and Duby should share additional adventures in a sequel or series. Your opinion is important.

Next week:  A sneak peek at your next favorite, adventurous couple coming soon in the new novel, tentatively titled LOU'S TATTOOS.

Until next time, happy reading!

Iris Chacon