A Side of Faith, Hope and Love: The Sandwich Romance Novella Collection

by Krista Phillips

  He started to move around the island to her. “Where are your meds? You should take one if—”

  Her hand slammed against the counter again, halting him a few feet away. “I don’t need you to—" Closing her eyes, she clenched a fist and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was more restrained. "I’m a big girl. I can handle my own medications.”

  She turned and grabbed an orange medicine bottle off the counter by the stove and gulped down a pill.

  It took everything in his willpower not to grab a cup of water for her.

  When she turned, she braced her hands on the counter behind her. “I’m not even sure I want to ask this, but where will you be working and living?”

  Folding his arms, he again wanted to kick himself for handling tonight so badly. This whole conversation was supposed to happen later, tomorrow, after the shock wore off an inch. “The hospital.” Kinda, sorta. “I start next week.”

  “What are you doing at the hospital?”

  He hadn’t been sure what Tilly knew about him. His parents had moved away from Sandwich over fifteen years ago. He had a few distant cousins living in the area, and that was it. But surely she knew… “I’m a doctor. Specialize in maternal fetal medicine.”

  Her head jerked up, her eyes blinking. “A doctor? You went to med school?”

  Walking to the breakfast table, he pulled out a chair and sat, elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I did. I figured you knew.”

  She rubbed her fingers on her temples and squeezed her eyes shut, her face etched in a miserable expression of pain and confusion. “But—why would you want to come to Sandwich for that? All the high risk patients go up to Chicago, right?”

  He didn’t want to explain that technically he would be taking mostly “regular” patients now instead of his specialty, although the hope was that he could see women with special needs here in Sandwich so they didn’t have to travel for each appointment.

  Regardless of his rationalization, it was a step back for him. But he had his reasons.

  He just wasn’t ready to tell them to Tilly. “Not everyone wants to drive that far for each doctor appointment. I’m joining Dr. Jones’s practice.”

  Tilly cocked her head for a moment. “That’s who Maddie sees.”

  “The woman here earlier? She doesn’t look like she has long to go.”

  “Actually, she’s only about six months along. She’s having twins.”

  Twins? His doctor brain wanted to ask more questions. Twins were normal but carried their own set of risks. It was the exact type of case Dr. Jones had said he wanted his help on. Would he transition a current patient? He hoped not in this particular case. Maddie hadn’t looked too thrilled with him earlier.

  Tilly pushed away from the counter. “Listen, it’s late. I’m tired. Just say what you’ve come to say and leave.”

  He stood up and took a step toward her. She was tall as ever, not that he’d expected her to shrink. She was almost his height, their eyes all but level. So familiar—yet so different. The last time he’d seen her, they both had been twenty-two. Young and foolish. “Have lunch with me tomorrow.”

  She shook her head, her dark hair dangling around her ears. “No. I have to work. Whatever you want to say, say it now.”

  “Where do you work?”

  Her chin hiked up a notch. “Same place.”

  “The Sandwich shop? You’re still a waitress?” The moment he said it, he wished he could snatch back the words and have a redo. They’d sounded derogatory and uppity, even to his own ears.

  “It’s the Sandwich Emporium now, and no. I’m actually the manager.”

  He nodded, impressed. “Matt still own the place?”

  Sadness tinted her eyes. “He died—maybe five, six years ago? His son Reuben owns it now, although Allie’s a silent partner. He’s actually expanded and is doing really well. The Sandwich Emporium is a popular restaurant all over northern Illinois and southern Wisconsin.”

  There really wasn’t anything time hadn’t touched. “Tilly, I know you want answers now. But it’s late. And I’d really like to have this conversation when we’re both rested. I came tonight to break the ice and let you know I was in town. But we do need to talk.”

  She moved past him to the table and began collecting abandoned paper plates and throwing them in the trash. “Fine. But tomorrow’s Friday and a busy day at the Emporium. I have to be there by eleven.”

  “Breakfast then?”

  She paused then shook her head. “Coffee.”

  “Golden Coins? For old sake?” They used to have breakfast there on rare special occasions when they’d scraped up enough money.

  “Oh geez. I’d forgotten about that place. They closed years ago. Just—” She looked around, her face slacking as if resigned to this meeting taking place. “Just come back here. I’ll brew us a pot and we can talk before I leave for work. Nine okay?”

  She was inviting him back here? The surprise almost made him smile until the reality of her reasoning hit him. She didn’t want to be seen with him in public, didn’t want to raise questions or eyebrows.

  “Nine’s fine.”

  They stood for a moment, eyes connecting, the awkwardness as thick as his mom’s homemade banana pudding.

  After a moment, Tilly jerked around and stalked to the counter, her back toward him. She scrubbed the faux granite with gusto.

  Adam let himself out, kicking himself for messing this up so badly. He hadn’t had any grand illusions of how the evening would play out.

  But he'd never imagined it would go so terribly.

  His gut churned as he remembered the words he’d carefully rehearsed for their next conversation.

  If things went as bad as they had tonight, tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.

  Three

  Tilly’s cell phone vibrated on the kitchen counter at exactly eight in the morning.

  Pushing her chair back from the breakfast table, she ran with bare feet across the vinyl, black-and-white checkered floor and grabbed the phone. If she had any luck at all, it’d be Adam, calling to cancel. Maybe he was going back to wherever it was he’d been all these years.

  Her shoulders sank at the sight of Maddie’s number on the caller ID.

  She propped the phone to her ear and headed back to her Captain Crunch Berries, her stress-relieving cereal of choice. “Hey, boss lady. It’s a little early to be calling, isn’t it? Everything okay?” The babies flashed through Tilly’s mind. Maddie seemed to be doing well, now that she had a reason for her abnormal weight gain and exhaustion.

  “Everything’s fine, except that I’m still in utter shock and confusion about finding out our restaurant manager, whom I’ve tried to set up on numerous dates, is married.”

  Tilly swirled her spoon around in the milk and multi-colored balls. “We all have our secrets, Maddie. It’s—personal. And now you know why I turned down those dates, hmm?”

  “You know I’m here to talk if you need to, right?”

  For all the woman’s brass, Maddie was still one of the most loving women Tilly knew. “I know. I’m fine, really. It’s a long story, and I’m not up to telling it right now.”

  She didn't want to think about it herself. If there were sand nearby, she'd bury her head in it immediately to block out this cruel twist of fate that had landed on her doorstep. Adam was not a topic she wanted to think about or explore for even a moment. The mention of his name brought back a swarm of emotions better left in the past.

  “Does Reuben need to come teach this boy a lesson?”

  Tilly closed her eyes, the memory of the new, older version of Adam swarming into view. His hair was the same color as hers, with maybe just a tinge of grey at his temples. He'd filled out too, but not in a too-many-donuts kind of way. The gym was obviously his friend.

  No, the man in her house last night was definitely no longer a boy. “You realize Adam is even older than me, right? He’s actually a doctor now.”

  The words seemed al
most fake as she said them. Dr. Adam Davis. Reconciling that to the crazy, fun-loving guy she’d fallen in love with and married at age nineteen was almost impossible.

  “Wow. You’re married to a doctor?”

  “Was. I mean, we’re still technically married, but I haven’t seen him in almost eighteen years. We’re more strangers than spouses.” Leaning back in the chair, she fiddled with the edge of the oversized Cubs T-Shirt she’d worn to bed then smoothed it back over her bare thighs. “I promise I’ll tell you about it someday. Just—not right now. Adam’s fine. He won’t hurt me.” Not physically anyway. Her heart was a different story.

  “Fine. You know how to reach me if you need to talk. And don’t be surprised to get a call from Allie, either.”

  It was a miracle Maddie had beaten her sister-in-law to the punch, not to mention Beth.

  After saying goodbye, Tilly flipped the phone to silent mode and turned it face down on the counter. She didn’t want to deal with anything else this morning. Having to talk with Adam was going to be difficult enough.

  Except maybe cleaning the kitchen. The moment Adam had left last night, she’d abandoned the mess and thrown herself onto her bed and had a good, mature cry. She couldn’t let him see her house like that again.

  She glanced at the clock. Still an hour until he was supposed to get there. Enough time to do a quick cleanup, throw on some clothes, and be ready for her husba—for Adam—to arrive.

  What could he have to say? Was he really going to move back? Did he finally want a divorce? Was he—was he seeing someone else? She wouldn’t blame him. She was surprised he’d never served her with papers all these years, even though she’d told him she’d never sign them.

  She’d regretted her sanctimonious words about three years into the separation. Now, she was fine with it. She had no desire to start her life with someone else. She was content where she was.

  Her wish from the night before echoed in her brain.

  Something more….

  She stomped her foot, her shirt bouncing against her legs. She would not go there. Her wish had nothing to do with Adam or his appearance.

  She didn’t have time for any of this anyway. She still needed to shower, and the kitchen wouldn’t clean itself.

  Flicking on the radio and turning it up, she used the loud praise music to drown out her wayward thoughts. God had been her helper, her keeper, her rock for all these years. He was solid and unchanging. She would do the right thing by Adam and listen to him, then send him on his way.

  Finishing the kitchen, she collected the empty cups and plates from the dining room table and stuffed them in a garbage sack. A fork with cake still stabbed on it tumbled off one of the plates to the floor.

  Great. Chocolate on the carpet. That was going to take some work to get out.

  She bent to pick it up when a throat cleared behind her.

  Snapping up, she turned and gasped. Adam stood in the dining room, staring at her, his gaze nowhere near meeting her eyes.

  ***

  Adam stood motionless at the sight of his half-dressed wife. Desires he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on in years exploded through his veins.

  He shouldn’t have come in. Shouldn't have been thirty minutes early. Should’ve knocked harder.

  But he could hear the music blaring from the back of the house where the kitchen was, and he doubted she’d have been able to hear him regardless.

  Now that he was inside, it took every ounce of his willpower to keep his distance.

  His wife stood, eyes wide with shock, holding a trash bag full of zebra paper plates and half-eaten cake.

  But even that couldn’t distract his eyes from her. She wore nothing but a blue Cubs T-shirt that hid only a very small portion of her legs. Memories of an earlier time, of her throwing on his old T-shirt after—

  No. He couldn’t let his mind go there. It wasn’t fair. Before he did something stupid like walk over there and kiss her, he turned on his heel and stepped away, focusing on the front porch door. “I’m—sorry. I knocked a few times and no one answered, so I opened the door to see if you—”

  He heard footsteps scurry into the kitchen, and the music clicked off a moment later. The man inside him wanted more than anything to turn around and take one more look, but it wouldn’t help his cause. Yes, they were married. But he’d given up his right to her and those memories long ago.

  Tilly cleared her throat, her voice hesitant and timid. “I’m going to change.”

  “I’ll put on the coffee.” Since the only smell that tickled his nose was from her vanilla candles that she evidently still burned, she hadn’t started it yet.

  The only reply was the sound of footsteps padding up the carpeted stairs.

  Making his way into the kitchen, he grabbed the bag of Folgers in a cupboard above the coffeemaker and started the pot brewing. He looked around, memories invading. The house looked like a rarely preserved relic of the past. The same white cabinets still hung on the walls along with white wallpaper speckled with tiny pink flowers. The house hadn’t been theirs back then, but had belonged to Tilly’s mom. It was where Tilly had grown up, where he’d picked her up for dates, where they’d announced their engagement to an infuriated mother who insisted they were much too young.

  But Adam and Tilly decided to live on love.

  They didn’t need a big house or lots of money. They just needed each other.

  It’d worked okay for three years. Until—

  “Adam?”

  His mind clicked back to the present. He looked up to see his wife, dressed in black slacks and a burgundy sweater, a light pink hue brushing her cheeks.

  “Coffee?” He held up an empty cup.

  “Sure.”

  They were on a one-word basis. Better than zero words, he guessed. He poured them each a cup, adding a swirl of creamer and dash of sugar in hers as she’d always liked it, and kept his own black.

  Sitting down, he slid the cup in front of her.

  “Thanks.” She took a sip, then settled back in her chair. He couldn’t tell if she did it to get comfortable or to get farther away from him.

  Probably the latter.

  “Tilly, we need to settle this.”

  She stared at the cup in her hands. “Settle what?”

  “Us.”

  She shook her head slowly. “There is no us, Adam. There hasn’t been for a very long time. I thought we had an agreement. It’s worked for eighteen years. I don’t see why we have to rock the boat now.”

  His stomach squeezed. He'd known she would balk, but God was kicking the boat out of its harbor and into service again whether Tilly liked it or not. “It’s not working for me anymore.”

  Her face went from pink to stark white. “Is there—someone else? Are you wanting to get married again?”

  Threading his fingers through his hair, he wanted to knock himself in the head for handling this so badly. “No, there’s no one else.”

  “Then why? You’re moving back, I get that.” She shook her head. “No, actually I don’t. What would possess you to move back after all these years? Your parents aren’t here anymore. You have what, a cousin or two still here or something?”

  He shrugged, not wanting to go there just yet. What she said was true enough. His parents had relocated to Texas years ago due to his dad’s job. But Sandwich still felt like home, probably because it still held his heart. “It was a good opportunity.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Bull. You’re a doctor. There are a million cities you could have set up practice in. You chose Sandwich for a reason.”

  “Sandwich doesn’t have any specialists for Maternal Fetal. I figured I could fill the need and have the chance to grow the practice my own way, instead of piggybacking off someone else.” All true. He was excited about the prospect of building it from the ground up. Giving women an opportunity for advanced care a little closer to home. But all that was just a perk, a good excuse to do what his heart was telling him needed to be done.
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br />   He’d given up a long time ago on the idea of being welcomed back home, of reconciling with his wife.

  Until last year, when he was being prepped for a surgery he wasn't certain he'd survive. God had made it clear that was exactly what he expected.

  Tilly lifted the cup to her mouth. “It’s going to be weird, living in the same town. Where will you be staying?”

  His pulse hiked a notch as he debated his next words. He’d planned to wait awhile—but something in him wanted to rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with. “At the moment, a hotel. But I was hoping to stay here, actually.”

  Tilly was mid-sip, but at his words, coffee spewed from her mouth.

  She blinked, wiped her mouth and table with a napkin, her eyes wide.

  Then she laughed.

  Not just any laugh, but a from-the-gut, riotous sort. She bent over, catching her breath between giggles.

  He’d imagined a lot of reactions. Being slapped. Kicked. In one particularly bad dream, she’d bitten a chunk out of his arm.

  Never laughter though.

  He wasn’t sure which he preferred. “I’m serious.”

  Still panting with laughter, she stood up, shaking her head, and walked over to the sink. “You can’t be. You’re a doctor, so you must have some smarts in that brain of yours. You can’t possibly think I’d let you move in with me. You’re delusional.”

  “It’s my house too, Tilly.”

  Her coffee mug dropped into the sink, the loud clink crashing throughout the room. Her laughter disappeared, replaced by narrowed eyes and a glare that could melt stone. “How dare you. My mom gifted this house to me.”

  “Us. She sent me a copy of the papers. My name is on the deed, too. Don’t you remember?”

  She blinked, her eyebrows arched so high they almost reached her hairline “That was—that’s impossible. Mom knew we weren’t together.”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder why you don’t pay property taxes? The bill has always come to me, and I’ve always paid it.”

  She closed her eyes and pressed her palm against her forehead. “I don’t—I have the lady next door to the restaurant do my taxes. She’s done them for years. I figured it was paid with all that stuff.”