"Okay, someone break out the medical book," AJ cried out, a few days later.

"Why?" Brian asked, slightly distracted by his girlfriend, who was next to him.

"Something is wrong with Nick."

"Cairo's in England. Of course there's something wrong with Nick. They parted on crappy terms, with her mad at him. There's the diagnosis," Kevin said.

"Thanks Doogey. But that's not it. They called each other, at the same time, I might add, thank god for call waiting, and everything is just peachy between those two," AJ explained, exasperated.

"Okay, then what could be wrong with him?" Howie asked.

"Okay. 1, why isn't he here? And 2, all he does is sleep or hang out with Megan. With Megan! She has the personality of a wet sock! He won't hang with us anymore. And for a guy who sleeps all day, he doesn't seem very well rested," AJ listed off.

"Who knows what's up with him? It's Nick. There is always something going on with that guy. Brooding is like a hobby to."

"Still, AJ has a point. He's not acting normal, for Nick standards. It's undoubtedly because of Cairo," Kevin decided.

* * * *

Cairo was captivated by the place. She explored part of it daily. She had visited the stables, and was amazed to realise that she now owned two horses and one mule. She renamed the mule Veronica, because it reminded Cairo so much of her.

The stable hand had been very patient with her as he taught her the basics of riding. She had been down a few of the trails, and had enjoyed it a lot. Her body protested the unaccustomed strain of riding a horse, but it had been a chance to get out of the dreary house.

She was in love with the countryside. It was so beautiful, so lush. She discovered an apple orchard, with it's blossoms starting to bud. The horse she was riding was an old chestnut mare, which was beautifully tame, compared to the other horse, which was very spirited.

Further in her exploration, Cairo investigated many of the rooms. In total, there were 11 modernised bedrooms, 7 of which had adjoining bathrooms, all in the west wing. In the eastern section of the house, she found the preserved rooms, 5 of them. They reminded her of a museum. There was no electricity or runny water. In that area, there were also what Miriam called workrooms. A room with a spinning wheel, a weaving loom and a dress mannequin haunted what Cairo labelled the Sewing Room. There was also an old fashioned parlour, and a servant's staircase. Cairo spent most of her days in these rooms, absorbing the history of the house.

The main floor was totally modernised, and Cairo quickly took up residence in the library, for writing. It had the perfect atmosphere, and Cairo like the view out the window. But even with all there was to distract her, she began to feel restless and confined in the large house. Miriam had agreed to stay on at Brickwood, if only until the Boys' vacation. She had arranged for some additional staff to help her out while Cairo was there. It was unusual for Cairo to be waited on, and found herself avoiding them whenever possible.

In a fit of boredom and unable to find a dust rag (or any dust to clean for that matter), Cairo had been wandered the halls of the "Old Wing" when she discovered the door to the attic. It was hidden in a corner, and the opportunity for more space to explore was thrilling to her.

Her fear of anything creepy crawly cause her to retreat a few times before she finally made it up the stairs. She was thrilled to find a light switch that worked. Cairo flicked it on, and the gloomy attic light up.

It was pretty empty. A few pieces of beautiful, yet dusty, wooden furniture and a few lamps. Cairo was completely disappointed as she walked around the virtually empty room. Feeling dejected and increasingly bored, Cairo turned off the light and headed back down the stairs.

Retreating to the library, Cairo sought relief among the books. Most of them were history and philosophy, not what she needed to spend a rainy day. Looking hopefully for a fiction novel, she found a small, leather bound book.

It stuck out to her was the spine was blank. Every other volume had the time and the name of the author embossed in gold or silver. Interested by the oddity, she pulled it off the shelf.

It was small and bound completely in leather. The cover was a charcoal drawing framed by dusty black leather. Opening the cover, hearing it crackle with age, Cairo remarked that the leaves of the book were not made of paper, but of heavier, aged parchment.

Personal Diary of Lady Katherine, Mistress of Brickwoode Manor, was inscribed on the first page in fancy script. Cairo sighed with pleasure. This would be fascinating. She quickly settled into a chair and began to read the account of "Lady Katherine", hoping her life was indescribably interesting, so as to relieve her boredom.

Dear Diary,

As you are a gift to me this day, I felt it proper that I write about the first day you came into my possession.

My darling Andrew, friend, brother and soul mate, handed me this book, whispering in his shy manor that it is a gift to celebrate my 17th year, even though my birth date is not for a few days yet. His words were touching, explaining that this journal is a "hopeful worthy object to record one's life." Even though he denies it, I know that the drawing is of his creation. A rose among a bramble bush, a very sight that we encountered last spring during one of our weekly rides.

My father disapproves of my visits from Andrew, fearing his intentions have changed from the times when we were children and played as brother and sister. And Diary, I too, feel that Andrew's intentions have changed, and my heart soars with happiness at the very thought. Somewhere during our childish adventures, Andrew ceased being a brother and playmate, and has become so much more to me. I yearn to see him again soon,

Katherine

A loud crack of thunder disturbed Cairo from her absorbed deciphering of the ancient script. It was hard to read the ancient style of handwriting, with the added difficulty of blots of ink spaced randomly throughout the account. Startled by the thunder, Cairo took a moment to reflect upon the discovery of the journal.

Realising that this was a treasure to be absorbed slowly, she reluctantly set it away from another day, and booted up her computer, planning on sending an email to Nick.

* * * *

He was standing a few feet in front of them. And still, he could not believe what his eyes were telling him. He could hear their whispered words of love, and each one stabbed him in the heart each time. Helpless to the torturous sight, he turned away, feeling bile rise in his throat.

In a rush of grief, he turned and fled the painful scene. Weary, his footsteps were clumsy and his breath burned his lungs, and soon he collapsed. His face was pressed into the damp grass and he could smell the dirt. He heard footsteps behind him, and felt her arms around him as he pulled himself up with her help.

"I am sorry that I had to show you that, love, but I could not let you return thinking that her heart was still yours. You would not believe that how I cared for you, but I have proven it to you this day. She would have made a fool of you, and I kept you from that fate. Andrew, I love you," she was whispering.

"I know Elizabeth. I thank you for you help and honesty," he replied, voice wrought with pain.

"I did it to show you that I love you," she said. For a moment, he could almost believe that he felt the same way, the need for revenge was so great. Picturing his true love, for a moment he thought she was Elizabeth. Needed to believe it. With wild abandon fuelled by the need for love, any love to replace the one whom had betrayed him, he fell into her embrace.

Nick awoke to someone shaking his arm. His mind still trapped in the dream and his heart pounding with shock, his palms slick with perspiration, it took him a few seconds to orientate himself to his whereabouts.

"Nick," a soft voice whispered. The person was bathed in darkness and he couldn't see who it was. Still halve in his dream world, he whispered a name.

"Elizabeth?" he asked.

"Nick?" the voice replied. The sound broke the hold of the dream and he returned to reality.

"Oh god Megan, you startled me. I must have fallen asleep," Nick stammered.

"You, young man, need to get to sleep. Tomorrow gets hectic. An interview, a fan conference and two promos, plus the concert," she admonished.

"Wow. That is pretty busy. But we leave for England by the end of the week. I am looking forward to seeing Cairo again," Nick sighed with pleasure at the thought.

"Right now, look forward to bed, because that's where you are going, understand?"

"Aye, aye!"