Toil and Trouble of Luna, MD

The town of Horseshoe Falls, neatly tucked in the curve of the magnificent river, pouring down the rocky rapids, forming the wonderful waterfalls, was surrounded with dense forests, making the place veritably isolated – but not forsaken; 'twas a quiet town, great for people who wished to take a break from the bustling metropolises, slow down and just enjoy their lives.

'twas not just some Gogforsaken middle-of-nowhere; for its some-hundreds-thousands of population, it provided developed enough infrastructure of social services, not much different from the one you'd expect to see in a millionaire city – 'twas just much more... calm?

If one'd like to have a bird's eye view, he'd see that the town was actually sitting in the aforementioned curve of the riverbed, shaped like horseshoe; pretty much self-explanatory.

Well, enough with the tour guide-ish rambling, back to the subject.

As the office door clicked closed after Leanne leaving, doctor Joanne Moon, MD, reached for her phone, calling the only person she could really trust – her sister.

Sybilla Celestine, her sibling sister, was a couple of years older and a political kingpin in the Horseshoe Falls' social life; she was dubbed 'Senator Celestine', or 'Celestial Senator' by her followers, and her rivals snided that she was called such for having her head high in the clouds; of course, that wasn't the slightest bit true – Sybilla was a good, honest politician, and she totally earned every vote in her favor.

Joanne hit the 'call' button and waited, counting the toots in the speaker; Tia usually didn't took long to answer.

“two... three...” - she counted to herself, and on the fourth toot her sister answered:

“Senator Celestine, what can I help you?”

“Hey, Tia – it's me, Joanne...” - replied the doctor, twirling a lock of her hair, kicking the shoes off and pulling her legs onto the armchair.

“Why, Lulu – long time no see!” - the speaker chirped, causing Joanne to smile to their old, child's nicknames they've used for each other. - “How're you doing, little sister?”

“Why, I'm so dandy, thank you. Listen, Tia – there's something I need to ask of you...” - drawled doctor Moon, floating far away in her memories...

...”Joanne – don't fear, child – come closer!” - the counselor smiled, waving her wrinkled palm to little Joanne; the girl cautiously treaded forward. - “Those are your new parents, child – what do we say?” - a couple, sitting opposite to counselor, immediately smiled at the girl.

“Awww, she's so sweet...” - cooed the lady. - “Isn't she, honey?”

“Sure she is!” - replied her spouse – energetic man in mid-thirties, brushing his finger over his moustache. - “Hello, baby Joanne – I'm Nicholas, and this is Eleanor,” - the lady waved vigorously. - “and we're your new parents!”.

The girl looked at the counselor, dumbfounded; the elder lady kept a plastered smile to her face, though one could vividly see through it – she was trying to get the girl out of her hair as quickly as possible, to get rid of that pain in the neck finally; of course, anyone, who wasn't a five years old girl, shocked and dumbfounded.

“Now, sweetie – what do we say when we're meeting someone?” - lilted the counselor, squinting a bit to Joanne; the girl mumbled “Hello, mister and mistress, I am Joanne...” - and winced involuntarily; her whole little world began to spin.

“Do you like your new parents?” - the counselor inquired, weariness in her voice concealed not-just-yet.

“Yes...” - whispered the girl, staring into the floor square; she was too terrified to look away.

“What was that, pumpkin? Speak up, don't fear! We don't bite...” - smiled the man.

“Yes, I do like my new parents...” - stuttered Joanne in utter terror, frozen at the place.

“Well, that's just wonderful! I have all the paperwork right here, so we can get this over with quickly!” - beamed the elder counselor, rustling through the folders; mister Nicholas came closer to her, as mistress Eleanor crouched near the girl and stroke her black hair:

“Don't worry, sweetie – you'll be just fine! You can call me Mommy from now on!”

“Is Tia coming with me?” - inquired the girl, looking into her foster mother's eyes.

“Tia?” - she looked at the counselor, creasing her brow in bemusement.

“Oh! Yes, she's got a sister...” - started a counselor, but stopped short, looking at Joanne: “Joanne, sweetie, be a dear and go get your things, while Mr. and Mrs. Moon will sort out the grown-ups business, would you?”.

Joanne obeyed mechanically, without even thinking, retreating to her bedroom and gathering whatever small belongings she had: a small plushie of a crescent moon she hugged at night, a book of fairy tales and a change of clothes, complete with necessities like toothbrush; Sybilla – Tia – was having her classes now, so she couldn't pass the news to her, and this struck her as a lighting: what if she'd never see her sister again?!

With this terrible thought in mind, she returned to the counselor's office, all set and ready, and caught the end of adults' conversation:

“And the last thing: you're going to give her your last name?”

“Yes, of course.” - replied the man, leaning back in the chair.

“Uh-huh...” - nodded the counselor, writing something down. - “And – done. Please, sign here... and here... and here... Yes, all set!” - she beamed at the couple, handing them over some papers. - “Now, Joanne Moon is officially adopted by Mr. Nicholas Moon and Mrs. Eleanore Moon. Godspeed, my dears!” - the door opened, and Joanne looked, eyes wide as a saucers, at her new parents.

“Is Tia coming with me?”

“No, sweetie – I'm afraid, not...” - sighed the man, scratching his head. - “We... uh...”

“We can't take your sister, too... I'm sorry, honey.” - the lady chimed in, looking concerned. - “But we left Ms. Keating our address, so your sister can find you, or write a letter to you!”

“I want to come with Tia...” - said Joanne, feeling tears welling in her eyes.

“I'm afraid this can't be done, Joanne.” - blurted Ms. Keating, counselor. - “Your sister will keep in touch with you, don't worry; and now, be a dear, and go with your new parents.”

“I want to come with Tia!” - cried the girl...

...”Lulu? Lulu, you there?” - Sybilla's voice in the speaker derailed Joanne's train of thought, and she replied quickly:

“Yeah, yeah, doctor Moon here!”

“I though you've, uh, dozed off...” - chuckled her sister. - “You just went silent for, um – twenty seconds, give or take.”

“Yes, I might've... recalled something...” - Joanne smiled sheepishly, as if her sister could've seen her. - “Listen, Tia – I need something done.”

“Always there for you, little sister – whatcha need?”

“Uh... I've got a patient here...”

“Is he giving you problems?”

“No, no, not at all – I just, well... have a feeling...” - the lady rolled the words on her tongue, as if assessing what she was about to say. - “...that I might need to know more of him. Can you help?”

“Uh, I can have people run through the records... No biggie.” - her sister replied. - “What's his name?”

“Winston Hamish Canterbury.” - replied Joanne, giggling to herself as she blurted out the funny name.

“Wow. That's a name. Is he British?”

“Told he was born in Scotland, but I can't just say he's Scottish, British or Irish, for the matter – he just seems... uh – international?”

“Uh-huh, I got that, Lulu. I'll call you back when I'll have something, 'kay?”

“Sure. Thank you, sister.”

“Don't mention it. Love you.”

“Same here.” - the phone beeped, ending the call, and Joanne Moon – Lulu – let out a sigh. She had a feeling she was staring at a deep water – and a deep water was staring back at her.

She just hoped the guts were bad prophets.

An hour later, after a particular bad (on the Horseshoe Falls' scale) traffic jam, as Joanne finally got home and clicked the coffee machine to life, her phone buzzed again; it was Sybilla.

“Yes, Tia?”

“Lulu, sorry to bother you at this hour, but I've got something pretty piquant on this patient of yours – the John Hamish Watson one...” - Tia drawled, intriguing.

“You're a tease. Always've been one...” - Joanne chastised half-heartedly, smiling at her sister's antics. - “What do you have?”

“Well, long story short, he's a veteran of SAS; the “S” Division – sabotage, covert operations et cetera, et cetera – I say 'wow, this looks kind of rad'; dishonorably discharged for disobeying an order of a commanding officer in combat situation, picking a fight with the named officer; discharged with saving a rank and decorations...” - read Celestine, obviously holding the phone with her shoulder. - “...moved to Falls seven years ago... no known family... graduate of a medical academy, current occupation – forensics expert... Wow, sis – that's one interesting case you have here.”

“Tell me about it...” - Joanne rolled her eyes. - “What else?”

“Uh... here's the record: got arrested a week ago for a fight in public; bailed out by his boss after three days behind the bars... Ugh. That's nasty. Are all veterans like this?”

“He actually seems a pretty, well, civilized kind of a man. Or at least, he seems to be one.” - replied Joanne. - “Anything else?”

“Nah. Nothing, sorry, sis – that's only the police records. Think I'll have something more later.”

“Thank you, Tia. Your help, it means sooo much. Love you, sister.”

“Love you too, Lulu. Say, how about having a girls' night sometime? My place, yours, or paint the town red?”

“I will consider the last option!” - laughed Joanne. - “I don't see why not; we haven't seen each other for quite a time.”

“My thoughts exactly.” - grinned Sybilla. - “Alrighty, little sister – kisses!”

“Bye!” - the coffee machine buzzed, drawing Joanne's attention: her coffee was done, steaming in a cup, patiently waiting to be drunk down. She put down the phone, dropped her work clothes and quickly changed into a comfy pajamas; soft flannel hugged her warmly, enveloping in familiar comfort; the night-blue ensemble was spotted with little crescent moons and stars, making this particular unit of wardrobe the 'home-only' use; private, as one might say, because, giggled Joanne to herself, fiddling with the fresh thought, if anyone would've seen Doctor Joanne Moon, MD, therapist/somnologist, respected and well-known specialist wearing a pajamas more fitting a twelve year old girl – well, weirdness ensues.

“But I like it, and it's comfy! Suck that in!” - she stated proudly to the coffee machine, braiding her hair; it never replied, though, so, with a giggle, doctor Moon produced a bottle of Irish Cream liquor  and added a bit to the coffee; she earned it.

“Now, a bath – a nice, long, hot bubble bath – and I'll call it a day” - she explained to herself, turning on the water, sipping her coffee and sitting on a couch with a book.

A perfect evening – what is there else to ask for?