Cathryn stepped out of the shower, pleased that her tactic to get Charles to look at Michelle had worked so perfectly. “Tad’s been in the hospital for three weeks. I hear he’s very sick but I haven’t spoken with Marge since he went in.”

“What’s the diagnosis?” Charles poised the razor below his left sideburn.

“Something I’ve never heard of before. Elastic anemia or something,” said Cathryn, toweling herself off.

“Aplastic anemia?” asked Charles with disbelief.

“Something like that.”

“My God,” said Charles, leaning on the sink. “That’s awful.”

“What is it?” Cathryn experienced a reflex jolt of panic.

“It’s a disease where the bone marrow stops producing blood cells.”

“Is it serious?”

“It’s always serious and often fatal.”

Cathryn’s arms hung limply at her sides, her wet hair like an unwrung mop. She could feel a mixture of sympathy and fear. “Is it catching?”

“No,” said Charles absently. He was trying to remember what he knew of the affliction. It was not a common illness.

“Michelle and Tad have spent quite a bit of time together,” said Cathryn. Her voice was hesitant.

Charles looked at her, realizing that she was pleading for reassurance. “Wait a minute. You’re not thinking that Michelle might have aplastic anemia, are you?”

“Could she?”

“No. My God, you’re like a med student. You hear of a new disease and five minutes later either you or the kids have it. Aplastic anemia is as rare as hell. It’s usually associated with some drug or chemical. It’s either a poisoning or an allergic reaction. Although most of the time the actual cause is never found. Anyway, it’s not catching; but that poor kid.”