Al was pleased to have Emrys in his kitchen, sitting on the counter while he cooked the dinner. He couldn’t do much, but having instructed the boy to sit with his cup while he made the macaroni and cheese with a side of vegetables and some cantelope. “All right, good boy,” he said, walking over to him after the meal finished cooking. It was an easy lift to raise Emrys from the counter to the floor and he smiled at him, reaching up to ruffle his hair gently. “Sit down at the table with your food. You’re going to eat all your fruit and vegetables.”