Don't Make Me Beautiful (24 page)

Nicole stands and puts the knife on the counter, suddenly desperate to know how this woman knows anything about her or her situation.
 
She can’t imagine that Brian has told the woman her secrets, but she has to find out.
 
Trusting him to hide her secrets has taken everything she has inside her.
 
Maybe Nicole’s looking for the one reason not to do that anymore, but she doesn’t stop to think about her motivations.
 
She just walks over to the door and opens it a crack.

The woman has gray hair, and this morning it looks a little less coiffed than normal.
 
She’s got a long-sleeved white blouse and green linen pants on.
 
But the best part of the whole get-up is the pink Crocs with orange socks on underneath.

“Nice to meet you,” the woman says, practically glowing with hospitality.
 
She puts her hand out.
 
“I’m Agnes, the neighborhood busybody.”

Nicole doesn’t open the door any farther.
 
“Hi,” she says, still trying to figure out what this woman’s deal is.

Agnes lowers her hand.
 
“I’m just going to run over to grab a second cup.
 
Shall I meet you in the back yard?”

Nicole can’t bring herself to answer.
 
She shuts the door without a sound.
 
Her throat burns with the tears she won’t let fall.
 
This is no time to fall apart.
 
It’s just a lonely woman looking for a coffee buddy.

As Agnes walks away and her footsteps cause one of the boards to creak, Nicole frets.
 
Biting her lip, she considers all the fallout that could occur after having a coffee with Agnes out back.
 
John could be sneaking around and then he’d see her.
 
Or the woman could go tell John that she’s here.
 
Or Brian could get mad at her for showing her face around his house.
 
Or the entire world could blow up in a nuclear disaster making all of this a moot point.

Her feet walk her body to the back door as her mind comes up with more and more ridiculous reasons not to go outside.
 
If only the call of the outdoors and the grass and the trees and that stupid French roast weren’t so much more compelling than her fears.
 
Her hand drifts down to the knob and unlocks the door before twisting the handle.
 
Am I completely insane?
 
She’s going to have a heart attack when she sees my face
.

The woman isn’t there.
 
Nicole steps outside as the sun is coming up and setting the sky aglow.
 
It’s too beautiful to miss, so she closes the door behind her, turning her face to the light and closing her eyes.
 
She wonders if maybe when she leaves she can find a cabin at the top of a mountain so she can feel this sunlight at dawn and at sunset.
 
She can’t think of a more peaceful way to live, especially considering how much she has to leave behind.
 
It’s going to take a lot of nature’s miracles to help her move through that part of her plan.

“There you are,” says a warm voice from off to the side.
 
The back gate is swinging closed behind Agnes as she walks carefully, trying not to spill two cups of coffee.
 
Her footsteps are as sure as they can be in crocks on wet, lumpy grass.
 
She glances up at Nicole only for a moment before going back to focusing on the hot drinks.
 
“I was afraid you were going to make me drink both cups.
 
My husband Willard would not appreciate that, believe me.”

She stops at the bottom stair, looking up at Nicole.
 
“Gorgeous isn’t it?”

Nicole isn’t sure what she’s talking about, but it can’t possibly be her face.

“What?”

“The sunrise.”
 
Agnes holds up the cup of coffee.
 
“I make sure to see it every day. You never know when it’s going to be your last one.
 
At my age, it’s important to appreciate the little things like the sun always rising in the east.
 
So far it’s never let me down.”

Nicole gives up on her fear because at this point it feels ridiculous.
 
She takes the cup, bringing it to her nose so she can inhale the rich steam.
 
“I know what you mean.”
 
She looks over at the skyline again as she takes a sip.

Agnes sits down on the top step, facing out into the backyard.
 
“Brian does such a nice job with the landscaping.
 
I wish my Willard would get off his duff and do the same.”
 
She sighs.
 
“Where there’s hope, there’s possibility, right?”

She turns and looks at Nicole, a kind expression on her face and questions behind her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Nicole says, taking another sip of her drink and looking off at the sun again.
 
“Wishing can bring false hope and then what does that get you?”

“Temporary happiness?
 
A little rest from the storm?” Agnes offers.

Nicole looks down at the woman, wondering what she’s getting at.
 
“Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.
 
Thanks for coming out and sharing it with me.
 
If I have more than two cups I’m a mess to deal with, and if I don’t have someone to share the pot, I end up having three.
 
I don’t know what my problem is, but I have a hard time throwing away something so good.
 
Seems a waste.”

Nicole is reading all kinds of things into what Agnes is saying, but the woman isn’t giving any indication that she means them for anything but face value.
 
Nicole gives up on trying to figure out if the woman has any ulterior motives and sits down on the other side of the stairs, just a couple feet away.

“So what’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s Briana.”
 
Nicole isn’t sure if she should go with the sister-ruse, so she leaves it at that.

“Briana.
 
That’s a nice name.
 
Similar to Brian’s isn’t it?”

Nicole doesn’t answer; it sounds like a hypothetical question.
 
She gets the distinct impression that this woman is way sharper than she’s given her credit for.

“Well, you know I’m Agnes, and maybe sometime you’ll meet my husband Willard.
 
He sticks to the house most days, unless he gets it in his mind to wander.
 
He does that sometimes, so if you ever see him strolling down the street, you let me know.
 
I don’t want to lose the poor man.”

“Why does he wander?”
 
She wonders if Willard is a prisoner in his home like she is, but finds it doubtful that a woman as nice as this one seems to be would do that.

“He has dementia. Sometimes he forgets where he lives or how to get home.
 
I take him out for walks and drives in the car from time to time, but the farther we go the more distressed he seems to get over it.
 
I think at some point I’m going to have to just live with the fact that he’s going to be a shut-in.”

“I know how he feels.”
 
Nicole spills the words before she can stop herself.

“How’s that?
 
You have dementia, sweetie?
 
You seem a little young for that.”

Nicole smiles without humor.
 
“No, I don’t have dementia.”

“So why do you feel like you need to be a shut-in?” Agnes asks.
 
When Nicole looks at her she adds, “If you don’t mind me asking…”

Nicole does mind her asking, but not enough to be mean and say so.
 
Instead, she shrugs.
 
“I don’t have much of a choice.”

Agnes chuckles.
 
“Don’t you hate when it feels like that’s true?”

Nicole scowls down into her cup before taking another sip.
 
When she can speak again, she says, “For some people it is.
 
One person’s truth is another person’s joke.”

Agnes puts her hand on Nicole’s knee, her bony fingers surprisingly warm.
 
“Sweetie, no one’s making jokes here.
 
I hope you know that.
 
Sometimes saying something silly just helps ease tension.
 
It’s nothing more than that.”

Nicole tries to smile at her, to reassure her, but it’s too difficult.
 
Her lips tremble and she gives up, turning her attention back to the trees at the far end of the yard.
 
Their beauty is lost on her right now.
 
All she can see is the ugliness of her life.
 
Her future without Brian, without Liam, and now without this nice old lady with seriously delicious coffee.

“Where are you from originally?” Agnes asks, looking out into the yard.

“Not far from here.
 
I grew up in the area.”

“Is that so?
 
So did I.
 
Maybe we’ve been neighbors before.”

Nicole’s heart spasms.
 
She’s been Agnes’s neighbor for years, if you count the fact that they lived one street over from one another.
 
“Maybe.”
 
Nicole keeps her tone noncommittal.
 
Hopefully Agnes will let it go at that.

“Brian asked me the other day to keep an eye on the house,” Agnes says, looking up at Nicole.

Nicole deliberately refuses to look back at Agnes, pretending she can’t see her with her peripheral vision.
 
“He has a lot of valuable antiques he works on.” Nicole can see the list of inventory in her mind.
 
She’s been over it ten times, trying to stay busy, trying to help him be more efficient and relaxed.

“I’d say his reason involves something more valuable to him than those antiques.”
 
She takes a sip of her coffee.
 
“But heck, what do I know.
 
I’m just a silly woman who gets crazy ideas in her head.
 
That’s what my husband always liked to say before he lost his noodle.”

Nicole stands up, not prepared to hear the rest of what Agnes has to say.
 
“Thanks for the coffee.
 
I have to go in now.”

Agnes doesn’t move.
 
“I’m next door if you need me.
 
I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

“Thanks.”
 
Nicole doesn’t want to say anything else.
 
So many thoughts are tumbling around in her mind, it’s liable to be something rude.
 
And she doesn’t want to be impolite to this lady.
 
To Agnes.
 
She’s just trying to be nice.

Nicole steps into the house and shuts the door behind her.
 
Watching through the curtains, she sees Agnes get up and leave the backyard the same way she came in, not looking back.
 
It’s only then that Nicole looks down and sees that she forgot to give Agnes her coffee mug back.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“YOU’RE UP EARLY,” BRIAN SAYS, seeing Nicole in the kitchen as he emerges from the hallway.
 
“Nightmares again?”

Nicole shrugs.
 
“Yeah.
 
What’s new, right?”

“Is that my cup?” he asks, looking at the bright red coffee mug in her hand, trying to figure out how his cabinet of mis-matched white ones has somehow given birth to one the color of a fire engine.
 
“Or maybe I’m just losing it.”
 
He rubs his eyes and looks again.
 
Nope.
 
Still red.
 
Still not mine.

“Agnes brought it over.
 
With coffee in it.
 
For me.”

Brian’s heart does a flip and he stops in his tracks.
 
“What?
 
How is that possible?”

Nicole sighs. “I guess she’s caught me looking out the windows before, and she caught me doing it again today.
 
So she came over and knocked on the door.”

Brian stares at Nicole, trying to read her expression.
 
“Are you mad about that?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what to feel at this point.
 
Part of me is angry at myself for exposing my face that way, and another part of me enjoyed sitting out there with her and having coffee like a normal person would.”

Brian closes the distance between them, putting his arms around her and drawing her into a gentle hug.
 
“You
are
a normal person.
 
How many times do I have to say that?
 
There’s nothing wrong with you, Nicole.
 
Nothing.
 
I wish you’d agree to have some therapy so you could get this all straight in your head.”

“Let’s not talk about that again.”
 
She rests her head on his shoulder, her casted arm between them and the other dangling at her side.
 
“I’ll go when I’m ready, but now’s not the time.”

“I think at this point not talking about things is a bad idea.
 
You can’t pretend like nothing happened.
 
It’s not healthy.”

Nicole doesn’t respond.

“I asked Agnes to keep an eye on the house.
 
It’s my fault she saw you.
 
She’s probably been focusing on us way more than normal because of it.”

“She told me you did that.
 
She also said she didn’t think it was because of the antiques in here, either.”

Brian sighs, still not sure if telling Agnes to ramp up her neighborhood watch activities was a good idea.
 
“She’s too smart for me.
 
She reminds me of my grandmother.”