By Virtue Fall (The Shakespeare Sisters Book 4)

by Carrie Elks

  Did her smile turn into a smirk? Ryan wasn’t sure, but whatever it was about her was making her more attractive than ever. Which definitely wasn’t a good thing. Not at all.

  ‘Popcorn?’ he repeated faintly.

  ‘Yeah, we both know how much they like popcorn.’

  He frowned, his eyes fixed on her face. Something about her was nagging at him. It was like one of those wispy dandelion clocks dancing just above his reach. He licked his lips, as she continued to smile at him. It was taking all his self-restraint not to run his finger across her jaw.

  Then it hit him. ‘It’s a school night,’ he said, almost shaking his head to get some sense in.

  ‘So?’

  ‘And it’s almost seven o’clock. Haven’t you fed Poppy already? Isn’t it nearly her bath time?’ He knew their routine like clockwork.

  Juliet shrugged. ‘My sister’s visiting, I figured we could throw the routine out this once.’

  ‘Just like that?’ he questioned.

  She threw her head back and started to laugh. If he thought she was beautiful before, it was nothing compared to seeing her caught in a moment of carefree abandon. ‘Am I really that bad? You make me sound like a cross between a sergeant major and Mary Poppins. I can be flexible when I want to be.’

  ‘You can?’ Damn. As if he needed that image in his brain.

  She nodded slowly. ‘So are you coming over to join us or what?’

  A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

  Leaning back in his chair, Ryan lifted the wine glass to his lips as he drained the last of his Chianti. It was warm and mellow, adding to the sense of relaxation he already felt, thanks to the easy ambience of the evening. The four of them had talked and laughed all night, and he’d found himself liking Sam Carlton. They’d visited so many of the same cities, it made for easy conversation.

  As for Juliet, he’d never seen her look so comfortable. It was as though she’d shrugged her worries off for the first time since he’d met her, and contentment seemed to radiate off her in waves.

  They’d exchanged so many heated glances it was almost embarrassing. Whenever she spoke or laughed he found his eyes seeking hers, a jolt of pleasure washing through him each time their stares collided. He couldn’t help but smile as the wine worked its magic on her, making her both giggly and open. Like the girl he imagined she once was.

  But she was all woman now.

  ‘I guess we should clear this lot up,’ she said, wrinkling her nose as she surveyed the devastation of cardboard cartons on the kitchen table. ‘At least most of it can go in the bin for once.’

  His mouth twitched at her English words. Another effect of the fine wine Sam had brought with him. His nickname for her was more than apt tonight.

  ‘We call it a trash can, London,’ he teased.

  She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘Tomayto-tomahto.’

  ‘Nope. Definitely a trash can.’ He winked, then stood to pick up a few of the empty cartons. ‘I guess I’ll have to make a move soon. Get my boy to bed.’

  ‘You need to live a little,’ Juliet said, her eyes sparkling at the tables she was turning. ‘Relax, Charlie’s fine. The last time I popped my head around the door he and Poppy had fallen asleep. I even made them clean their teeth earlier, so at least we don’t have to worry about cavities.’

  ‘Yeah, cavities, we definitely don’t want them to get those.’ He winked at her.

  ‘Why do you call her London?’ Sam asked, walking over to open another bottle of wine.

  ‘Why do you think?’ Cesca answered him before Ryan could. ‘Because she’s from London, stupid.’

  ‘And because I hate it,’ Juliet said. ‘He’ll do anything he can to aggravate me.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Cesca agreed. ‘Sam will do anything to wind me up. It’s like some kind of weird mating ritual.’

  ‘It works doesn’t it?’ Sam grabbed Cesca around the waist with one arm, the other hand still grasping the wine bottle. He nuzzled his face into her neck. ‘You hated me from the minute I walked into the villa two years ago. Why fix something if it ain’t broken?’

  ‘Oh, get a room.’ Juliet shook her head, still smiling. Then she looked at Ryan again. This time she didn’t look away. Instead her eyes widened as he caught her gaze.

  Christ, he wanted to kiss her again.

  ‘We’ve already got a room, and luckily for you, it’s next to yours,’ Cesca said, laughing as Sam squeezed her tight.

  Juliet looked at Ryan in mock-horror. ‘Can I stay at yours tonight?’

  The thought of her in his bedroom was alarming and enticing in equal measure. He had to take a deep breath to even himself out. It wasn’t wrong to flirt back when she was the one who started it, was it?

  ‘What’s mine is yours.’ He smiled at her. No, it wasn’t wrong at all.

  ‘And they think we should get a room,’ Cesca said. ‘Is it me or is getting hot in here?’ She started to fan herself, making Juliet roll her eyes.

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Make me.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll make you if I need to,’ Juliet warned her sister. ‘Remember what I used to do when we were kids?’

  Cesca made a disgusted face. ‘Oh no, not the infamous Chinese wrist burn? Anything but that.’ She glanced at Sam. ‘She’s a demon with her hands. She brings grown men to their knees, tears in their eyes.’

  Ryan coughed out a laugh. ‘I bet she does.’

  ‘Et tu, Ryan?’ Juliet said, poking him with her finger. ‘What is this, let’s gang up on Juliet day?’

  He couldn’t help but grin. Having her sister around was relaxing her in a way he’d never seen before.

  He really wanted to see her that way again.

  ‘Are all your sisters like this?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yep,’ Sam said, handing him a full glass of wine. It looked as though Ryan wasn’t going home any time soon. ‘They’re a nightmare when they all get together. You can’t hear yourself think. The only time they all quieten down is when their dad has something to say, which isn’t often, poor guy.’

  Juliet looked down, and he saw the sadness flashing in her eyes.

  ‘You okay?’ Ryan asked her quietly.

  When she looked up, her eyes were watery. ‘Yeah, I’m being stupid. It’s just that I miss my family. I hadn’t realised how much until Cesca mentioned it. I couldn’t even go to the premiere of her play in London, because Thomas wasn’t happy about it. And now he’s banned me from taking Poppy back at all, even for a visit. And I want her to see my dad while she can.’

  ‘But you’re doing something about that, right?’ Cesca asked. ‘Lucy told me she’s been looking at everything, and has given you some things to talk to your lawyer about?’

  Ryan remembered that Lucy was the eldest, their sister who was a lawyer herself.

  ‘Yeah, but it’s taking so much longer than I thought. And in the meantime, Dad’s not getting any better, is he?’

  ‘Why’s it taking so long?’

  Juliet shrugged. ‘Part of it is the system. You have to be separated for a year in Maryland before you can divorce. But Thomas doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to agree any terms in advance. It’s as if he doesn’t really want to get divorced.’

  Ryan said nothing. Even though the mention of Juliet’s soon to be ex-husband made him want to grind his teeth together.

  ‘Maybe you should get a better lawyer,’ Cesca suggested.

  ‘I’ve already paid mine a hefty retainer. I don’t want to spend more money if I don’t have to.’

  ‘If you’re worried about the money, we could help. I’m pretty sure Lucy and Kitty would want to, as well.’

  ‘Thank you, honey, but I can handle it myself,’ Juliet said. ‘This is my mess, and I’ll clean it up. Don’t think I don’t appreciate the offer, though, because I do.’ She slapped her hands together, signalling the end of that conversation. ‘Okay, let’s change the subject. Can you believe it’s Tha
nksgiving this week?’

  ‘Do you celebrate?’ Ryan asked her. ‘Being from London and all.’

  ‘I don’t, but Poppy does. She’ll be with Thomas this year. I’m planning to spend the day cleaning the shop. It’s long overdue.’ She smiled at him, and he grinned back. ‘How about you? Will you be cooking a turkey?’

  ‘I was planning to. I’ll save you some if you like.’

  Their eyes met again. It was happening so often, he could almost count down the seconds until they did.

  She propped her chin on the palm of her hand, her gaze never leaving his. He wanted to know what she was thinking – whether she was remembering that kiss the same way he was. His attraction for her hadn’t dissipated at all in the days since their lips had connected, but he was doing his very best to keep it reined in.

  ‘You know what, Ryan?’ she said, leaning her head to the side. ‘I’d like that very much.’

  14

  I can no other answer make but thanks,

  And thanks, and ever thanks

  – Twelfth Night

  Ryan steered his car into a free space next to the gate. Though the rain had let up a little, the storm had kept most people away from the cemetery. He was thankful for the silence – it had been a long time since he’d visited this place. Too long. The last time he’d stepped through these wrought-iron gates was when he was carrying his grandfather’s coffin to its final resting place.

  All these years later, he was back, but this time with his son. His flesh and blood. Somebody who didn’t judge him for his money, for his choices. The one person in the world who took him for what he was, never asking or demanding more.

  The one person he’d give his life for without blinking.

  ‘You ready?’ he asked Charlie, grabbing the umbrella from the backseat, and walking around to help his son out of the car.

  Charlie nodded. He was carrying a small potted plant he’d decorated at home. ‘Is this where Grandpa Cutler’s buried?’

  ‘That’s right. And Grandma Maisie.’

  ‘But they’re your grandpa and grandma, right? Not mine? My grandma is Samantha isn’t she?’ He was talking about Sheridan’s mom. Charlie still hadn’t quite grasped how family relationships worked, and Ryan knew that some of that was his fault. He rarely spoke of his family to Charlie – apart from his grandfather – no wonder the kid was confused.

  ‘Cutler and Maisie were your great-grandparents.’

  Charlie nodded seriously, wrapping his small hands around the metal handle of the umbrella, and pulling it close to his head. ‘Okay then.’

  Inside the gate, the paths that wound around the graves were as empty as the parking lot. Ryan wiped the rainwater from his face, then put his arm on Charlie’s back, leading his son deeper into the graveyard. Occasionally they passed a family – heads down, black umbrellas up – paying respects to their loved ones on this Thanksgiving afternoon.

  Finally they passed the bank of trees he knew led the way to his family’s plot. It was a private part of the cemetery, marked by marble busts and intricate stones, and everything about the graves reflected the wealth of his ancestors. Shaws had lived in this town since the seventeen hundreds, though it was only in 1835 that this cemetery had been constructed.

  The two of them took a left, past the familiar names of Ryan’s ancestors; Marthas and Williams, Johns and Eleanors, all of them long buried, though their blood still ran through him today. With his hand still on his son’s back, he steered him to the far right-hand side, where two simple, white stones marked his grandparents’ final resting place.

  That’s when he realised he wasn’t alone. Standing there, in a thick, red coat, with a pale grey umbrella sheltering her body, was his mother. She was staring at the gravestones, her red lips pursed, her eyes narrow. She looked smaller than he remembered – smaller and thinner – and her hair, once big and healthy, was sparse around her head. As he and Charlie approached the gravestone, she glanced up, blinking as she tried to focus on the figures in front of her.

  ‘Ryan?’ Like the rest of her, Nancy Sutherland’s voice seemed almost weightless. ‘Is that you?’

  His heart was racing. He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had made its home there. The last time he’d seen this woman – half a lifetime ago – she’d been crying, her face red with sadness, her eyes wet with tears. She’d begged him not to leave, but she never understood. Watching his father belittle her every day was killing him.

  ‘Mother.’ He nodded. He felt Charlie shift his feet beside him, but his son said nothing.

  ‘I heard you were back in town. And this must be your son.’

  Ryan nodded. ‘Yes, this is Charlie.’

  Her face softened. ‘Hello Charlie, I’m your grandmother.’ She licked her thin, red lips and took a step towards them. Charlie shrank against Ryan as if seeking protection.

  ‘My grandmother lives in San Diego. Her name’s Samantha.’

  His mother’s lips trembled. ‘But I’m your other grandmother.’

  Charlie frowned, and looked up at Ryan. ‘Is that true?’

  Ryan placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Remember I told you about my mom and dad? That they lived in this town?’ Charlie nodded, his eyes still wide. ‘Well, this lady is my mom. Her name’s Nancy, and she’s your grandmother, too.’

  She’d cleared the distance between them, coming to a stop in front of Charlie. Her eyes were watering, her mouth still quaking, and she bit down on it as if to still the shakes. ‘Charlie, I’ve been hoping to meet you. I’m so happy to finally be able to say hello.’ When she glanced at Ryan, he could see his reflection in the mirrors of her eyes. ‘He looks just like you did at his age. A Shaw through and through.’

  ‘My name’s Charlie Shaw Sutherland.’

  A single tear rolled down her papery cheek. ‘That’s a very nice name. And a very significant one, too. Has your father told you that the Shaws built this town from nothing? And that our family – your family – are very important?’

  Charlie looked up at Ryan, his face full of questions.

  ‘I haven’t told him that, no,’ Ryan said. ‘Because I’ve brought him up to realise that everybody’s important. And that we’re no different to anybody else he meets – rich or poor.’

  His mother flinched, and Ryan immediately regretted his harsh tone. ‘I’m sorry, I—’

  She waved her hand. ‘Don’t apologise. I understand what you’re trying to say. But he is your son, half of his blood comes from this land. He is as much the product of the Shaws and Sutherlands as he is of his upbringing. And he should at least know something about his history, even if you turned your back on it.’

  ‘He’ll know when he’s ready,’ Ryan said, keeping his voice free of emotion. ‘And he’ll know why I found it so suffocating, too. I want him to grow up knowing he’s more than a name, more than a small town where everybody knows everyone’s business. And more than anything I want him to know that no man should ever treat a woman the way Dad treated you.’

  ‘He’s not so bad any more,’ she told him, though the quiver in her voice didn’t back up her words. ‘He’s getting old, we both are, he’s mellowed.’

  ‘He’s still a bully. I saw that when he called me into his office.’

  ‘You saw him?’ Her mouth fell open. Ryan guessed there were still secrets between them, the way there always was. Growing up, his father had ruled their house with an iron will. What he said always went. If anybody dared to stand up to him, they’d feel the force of his wrath.

  Maybe that’s why Nancy Sutherland had stopped standing up for herself. And when Ryan had tried to stand up for her, she’d told him to stop, to respect his father. That she would never leave him.

  In the end it was Ryan who’d left. From the moment he’d stepped on the airplane he’d felt free.

  ‘Yeah I saw him. It was as pleasant as always.’

  ‘Why did you come back if you hate him so much? What made you choose this town?’


  That was the million-dollar question. And the simple fact was, he’d chosen it for a reason. Or maybe it had chosen him. Whichever way you looked at it, he’d spent half his life avoiding the place that held all his bad memories, and yet it held everything else too. His family, his history, a town built by his forefathers that had made him the man he was today. When he and Sheridan had discussed where Charlie should spend his Kindergarten year, the first words that slipped from Ryan’s tongue was the name of his home town. Shaw Haven, the place of his birth. He’d left under a cloud with nothing more than his tarnished name to cling on to, and he’d come back as a man, one who had succeeded in spite of everything, who’d made his own life, his own luck, and yet still had something left to prove. He’d come back because there was still part of his story left to write.

  And when it was written, he’d leave and they’d start their new life together. Far away from this place.

  Ryan wiped the rain from his brow and looked at his mom. ‘I came back because I wanted to.’ Pulling his attention away from her, he looked at Charlie. ‘Do you want to put your plant on Grandma Maisie’s grave?’ he asked him.

  Charlie nodded, walking forward, Ryan following close behind to shelter him with the umbrella. His son squatted down, placing the plant pot gently next to the headstone. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the maelstrom of emotions seeing his mother had unleashed. Trying to ignore the painful memories she’d stirred up.

  Almost immediately his thoughts went to Juliet. And suddenly the need to see her overwhelmed him. He was surprised by the intensity of his feeling. It was like a magnet, dragging him in.

  ‘There,’ Charlie said, wiping his hands together. ‘Is that okay?’

  ‘It’s perfect.’ Ryan smiled at his son. From the corner of his eye he saw his mother still watching him. ‘Let’s go, buddy,’ he said, putting his arm around Charlie’s shoulders. ‘I promised Juliet some turkey.’