Starting from Scratch by Marie Ferrarella

wrong.
    She looked at his color again, thinking how pale he was. She could feel the foundations of her world weakening, as if she’d just found out that they were constructed of cardboard instead of concrete.
    She placed a hand on his shoulder, trying not to feel at a loss, wishing she was that know-it-all big sister again, or at least could somehow channel her. “Maybe you need to see a doctor.”
    Henry raised his head and gave her an acquiescing smile. “I am seeing one.”
    â€œSeeing?” she echoed, picking up on the one telltale word. He hadn’t just gone once and gotten a clean bill of health. “As in an ongoing process?”
    This definitely didn’t sound good to her.
    â€œDon’t make a big deal out of this, Lise. I just went in for a checkup.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me?”
    â€œBecause I knew you’d make a big deal out of it. I went because I haven’t been to a doctor for a while and I thought it might be a good idea to get myself checked over.”
    She wasn’t buying that, not for a moment. “Women think like that,” Elisha pointed out. “Men don’t think like that.” She was doing her best not to allow panic to cross her threshold. So far, she was succeeding. “Now, what’s wrong?”
    With the patience of Job, Henry stuck to his story. “Nothing.”
    She couldn’t very well choke the story out of him. “How serious a nothing?”
    Henry laughed, stood and reached for the dishwashing detergent. He added the appropriate amount to the machine. “You always were dramatic.” He punctuated the statement with an affectionate laugh.
    She sighed. The man was a veritable sphinx when he wanted to be. “And you were always closemouthed.”
    There was deep affection in his voice as he posed the question, “How would you have known? You were always talking. Or dictating,” he added before she could defend herself. They knew one another very well. They always had. “I couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise. Mom and Dad wouldn’t have even known I could talk if you hadn’t had to go to kindergarten a few hours a day and leave me at home.”
    â€œYou’re trying to divert me, Henry. All right, if you’re already seeing a doctor, what did he or she say?”
    â€œIt’s a he. Dr. Steven Rheinhold,” he said. “And he think’s that it’s probably just an ulcer. He wants to run some tests.”
    An ulcer would be consistent with someone who kept everything inside and never displayed any anger, she thought. An ulcer could be treated and managed.
    â€œTests.”
    He smiled and passed his fingertips over the furrow that had formed between her eyebrows, smoothing it out. “Don’t say it as if it’s a death sentence.”
    The second he said the forbidden word, Elisha rallied. She instantly forgot about her own reaction, her own concerns, and became the eternal cheerleader.
    â€œNo, of course not. Tests are good. They rule out things, put your fears to rest. Tell you what you should be doing.” She looked at her brother pointedly. “Like resting.”
    He returned her look without flinching. “You’d be the one to talk.”
    With her, it was more a case of collapsing instead of resting, and she did so periodically. But this wasn’t about her, it was about him. The only really important “him” in her life.
    â€œLike you just said, brother dear, I always do.” She sobered slightly, turning the dishwasher on for him. “You’ll tell me the minute you find out anything?”
    â€œIf I can get through.”
    She knew he was referring to the last time. The woman on the switchboard had placed him on hold and immediately lost the connection.
    â€œCall my cell,” she told him. “And the answering machine.”
    â€œSo in other words,” he deadpanned, “you don’t