Falmouth Awakenings (Cape Cod #4)

Prologue

One Month Earlier

“ W hy are the flowers in the vase crooked? I told you to take care of it.”

“I will as soon as I’m done washing the dishes,” Amy replied without looking over her shoulder.

She continued to run her fingers under the hot water, marveling at how it felt against her cool skin. Then she heard his footsteps inch closer, and her heart skipped a beat. When he was close enough for her to smell the overpowering stench of his musky cologne, Amy’s stomach clenched in fear, and she resisted the urge to turn around.

Because she knew what was waiting for her if she did.

His large hand came down on her shoulder, and Amy winced, her breath hitching in her throat. “When I tell you to take care of something, I expect it to get done.”

Slowly, Amy twisted to face her husband, every last inch of her recoiling at his touch.

Even after decades of enduring his wrath, she still couldn’t wrap her head around it or reconcile herself to it.

It felt more and more like she built her whole life around him, only to find out their foundation was made of cards.

Amy took a step back, and Eric’s hand fell from her shoulder, giving her a momentary sense of relief. She reached for the rag to wipe her hands and hide the tremor. “I’ll get to it.”

Eric’s dark eyes tightened. “How hard is it to arrange a vase of flowers?”

Amy pretended to still wipe her hands. “It’s not hard at all, but there are other things that need taking care of.”

Every day, she had a long list of chores, and each day, the list felt endless, like no matter how much she chipped away at it, she was never going to be done. And her husband, the great and incomparable Eric Taylor, had never been one to lend a hand. Since the day she met him, he’d been very clear about the kind of woman he was looking for as a wife, and she’d done her best to accommodate him at every turn.

Through every hurled insult, every disapproving look, and all of the times he’d belittled her in front of people, Amy had borne it all with as much grace and dignity as she could muster because she thought she didn’t have any other choice. Since she was a little girl, it had been drilled into her, this need to obey and please, and her husband was no different.

It was why, at seventy-one, she had no job of her own and very little in the way of a life outside of her husband and children.

Why wasn’t any of it ever good enough for Eric?

Why was she always racing to stay one step ahead of his needs?

Eric folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, how difficult it must be for you. To have nothing else to do but sit around and play house all day.”

Amy swallowed past the surge of fear rising steadily through her and making her stomach tighten further. “Eric, darling, please, I—”

Eric let one hand fall to his side, and he held the other hand up. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been distracted, unorganized, and sloppy for weeks now, and I’ve been patient and understanding, but this is getting ridiculous.”

Amy’s mouth fell open in surprise.

Her husband was many things: ambitious, driven, and charming when he wanted to be, but kind and considerate were most definitely not qualities she associated with him. As she stood there, across from him in their airy and open, tile-floored kitchen with several brand-new appliances that still gleamed, Amy found herself struggling to remember the last time Eric had said anything kind. The longer she stood there, struggling to formulate a response, the worse she felt about everything.

Eric hadn’t so much as given her a proper smile in years.

And she couldn’t recall the last time he’d come home in a good mood and swept her into his arms or taken her out for a dinner that wasn’t related to his business. Most days, she barely even set eyes on him unless he was looking for her to complain about something or other.

Abruptly, Amy snapped her mouth shut and curled her hands into fists at her side.

Eric’s eyes tightened further. “And now you’re daydreaming again. Am I boring you, Amy?”

She held herself erect and hid her hands behind her back. “No.”

Eric took a step in her direction, and she could smell the alcohol on him, reeking and pungent. “So, what is it, then? You were too tired? You forgot? What pitiful excuse are you going to give me this time?”

Amy’s heart was pounding in her ears now as her mind raced to come up with an excuse.

Anything to keep his temper at bay.

Eric took another step in her direction, and she realized his hair was disheveled, his checkered tie was askew, and he had creases in his pants. “I’m waiting.”

Amy opened and closed her mouth several times.

Finally, she released a deep, defeated sigh and hung her head. “I don’t have an excuse.”

Bile rose in the back of her throat.

“Exactly, and even if you did, if I wanted one, I’d ask you for it. How many times have I told you to keep the house presentable? It’s your only job, and you can’t even do that right.”

Shame, guilt, and anger rose up within her and made the knots in her stomach tighten further. She hid her hands behind her back, afraid he was going to see the tremor going through her.

She refused to lift her gaze and let him see the effect his words were having, the shell of a woman she’d become because of him.

And for what?

She’d kept her mouth shut for years to keep the peace, and all it had gotten her was heartache, misery, pain, and a life of deep loneliness and isolation. Suddenly, she thought of Lily’s letter, which had arrived earlier that morning. Her fingers itched with the urge to take it out, unfold the edges, and hold it up to the light.

Maybe Lily was right.

Was there a better life for her out there?

Eric stopped advancing on her and turned away, making some of the knots in Amy’s stomach unfurl. Carefully, she looked up at his retreating back and resisted the urge to call out to him. In the early days of their marriage, Amy had given as good as she got, hoping against hope that the man she’d married, the one she’d fallen in love with, would find a way back to her.

The day she realized it was all a lie had been one of the worst days of her life.

Eric had never been the man she fell in love with, and she had no one to blame but herself for not seeing the signs sooner.

When Eric spun around to face her again, he no longer looked angry. He cocked a finger in her direction, and on impulse, she found herself walking over to him. Then he tapped his foot impatiently as her hand drifted up and around his neck. She tried to keep the tremor out of her hands as she fixed the tie, pausing to run her fingers over the smooth and silky fabric. As soon as she was done, Eric stepped back, and her hands fell to her sides again.

Wordlessly, he stepped into the living room and stopped in front of the wooden table next to the balcony. After pouring himself a generous drink from the glass decanter, more and more of the anger left him as his shoulders relaxed and some of the tightness around his eyes eased. On his second drink, he turned to her with a smile and a familiar glint in his eyes.

“I hate it when you make me angry,” Eric told her. “Especially at our age. Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

Amy swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.”

Eric nodded and finished the last of his drink. “So am I. Now, you’ve ruined the evening for me.”

Without waiting for a response, Eric strode over to the door, pausing to glance at his reflection in the mirror above the shoe rack. He patted his hair down, examined his row of pearly white teeth, and then shot her a hard look over his shoulder. It sent a shiver of unease racing up her spine.

“Clean yourself up,” Eric said in a hard voice. “I’ll be back later.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Amy stood frozen for a long time.

So long, in fact, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed as she stood there, frozen in horror and shock. When she realized it had only been a few minutes, Amy’s hands trembled as she reached into her pocket. She unfolded Lily’s letter, set it down on the counter, and burst into tears. The sound of her own heavy sobs reverberated inside her head. When her shoulders started to shake, and she found herself unable to catch her breath, Amy pulled a chair out and sank into it.

Then she buried her face in her hands and cried for the woman she once was. The woman she thought she’d be by now.

Using any and all means at his disposal, Eric had done everything within his power to chip away at her, to mold her into a cold shell of a woman with no life of her own, and she’d let him.

And she couldn’t even remember why.

Through her tears, she glanced at their penthouse apartment, with its large terrace overlooking the city skyline, hardwood floors that polished and gleamed, and several spacious rooms, and she suddenly couldn’t recognize any of it. Not the paintings on the cream-colored walls, with colors of far-off landscapes she was never going to see. Not the plush Persian rugs littering every inch of the living room, and not the cameras set up in every corner of the house, ensuring Eric had complete and total control over everything.

On the outside, Amy looked as if she had the perfect life.

But only she knew the truth about the gilded prison she lived in and her cruel jailer.

With a slight shake of her head, Amy hastily folded the letter back up and carried it to the guest room. There, she flicked the lights on, perched on the edge of the bed, and blew out a deep and shaky breath. After a long moment, she unfolded the letter and brought it up to the light, Lily’s words bringing her stepdaughter back to life.

Dear Amy,

I’m sitting out on the veranda right now and looking out at the water. It’s so beautiful here. I wish you could see it, and I wish you were here, so we could go on our walks together. Remember how we’d wake up early and sneak out before Dad woke up? Even back then, we thought we had to tiptoe around him, but we didn’t know any better.

Things are different now.

Mom’s family is so much more than I ever thought they would be. Being here has given me a second chance at life and love, and I couldn’t be more grateful. The only thing missing is seeing you, Lucas, and Sylvie again. I know you’ve already turned me down, but I’m just going to keep asking.

You’ll always have a home here if you need it.

I hope you’re taking good care of yourself.

Love always,

Lily

By the time she finished reading the last sentence out loud, Amy was in tears again. Over and over, she turned her stepdaughter’s words around in her head, and she wondered what they meant. Although she missed Lily desperately, she knew she couldn’t pack up and leave and go to Provincetown, of all places.

Eric would never let her.

And other than Lily, she had no one there.

At least in the city, she had her children, she had a house to tend to, and come tomorrow morning, Eric was going to be back to his usual dismissive self.

It was the way her life worked, and even though she died a little more every day, it was better than the unknown.

There was no telling what kind of life awaited her in Provincetown, and Amy wasn’t brave enough to find out.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Amy whispered before clutching the letter to her chest. She shuddered and swallowed several times before she could speak again. “I hope you and I do see each other again. I really do.”