Roz Fox - The Maverick Returns

Coop propped his guitar case against the porch railing. “The thought of a good meal brought me running, Willow. I’ve been tortured by the smell of your meat loaf from about the time it went into your oven. Tantalized is a better word,” he added quickly, catching the look of dismay that crossed her face.

“Here I figured I’d surprise you… .”

Coop picked up the plate and removed the cover. “It looks as delicious as I remember. And fresh peas in their pods. And cornbread. You exceeded my wildest expectations, Willow.”

She chuckled, and he noticed a dimple he remembered well, one he hadn’t seen since his arrival. All too fast, though, she blushed and retreated into the house.

“Wait,” he called, unable to stop himself. “Why don’t you bring out plates for you and Lily, too? We’ll call it a picnic.”

Willow didn’t respond immediately and Coop couldn’t see through the screen into the darkened house. But then she cracked it open and said, “Lily’s already eaten. She only likes a few foods right now.” Willow glanced away. “That’s part of her disorder. Some forms of autism have an obsessive component. For instance, she’ll like one food, one shirt, one pair of pajamas, and it’s a battle to get her to change. Today she dug in the dirt the whole time I weeded what’s left of my garden. That tired her out, so she ate, had her bath and crashed early. But I, um, suppose I can eat out here.” She glanced back when Coop said nothing. “Why the frown? Was the invitation only for the two of us?”

“What? Oh, no. It’s just that I brought my guitar with me tonight. I read something in a magazine about a boy with autism responding well to music. Not that I’m a great guitarist,” he pointed out. “And I know next to nothing about autism.”

“I wish I knew more. Every expert, every doctor and every therapist has a different theory,” she said. “But you used to be good enough on the guitar to play in that band during college. And, Coop, it’s thoughtful of you to think of Lily. She loves the blocks you bought. But I’d really like to hear you play for a while tonight.”

“Great, but please hurry and dish up your food. I can’t wait to dive into this while it’s hot.”

“Dig in. Don’t wait for me.” Willow was quick, however. And even at that, Coop had sampled everything on his plate before she returned to take a seat two steps below him. “I intended to get you a chair, but you seem to be doing all right without it. Be careful leaning against that post, though. I noticed some of them are rotting at the base. From the weather, I guess.”

Turning, he inspected the one at his back. “Looks like two or three posts and part of the foundation will need to be replaced before we can paint the place. I didn’t pick up any paint this trip, but I can get new boards and paint next time. You’ll need to go to town with me to choose a color.”

“Cooper.” Willow paused and shook her head, a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. “What part of I don’t have the money to make all these repairs or to cover the stuff you’ve already bought don’t you understand? I thought we already had this discussion.”

“This is the best meal I’ve had in weeks,” he said, ignoring her. “Is there any more cornbread? No, don’t get up. I’ll help myself. Is it in the oven or on the back of the stove?”

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