Chapter Sixty-Eight: Al, Sunday

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Al busied himself with getting Tabitha's energy out with a wand toy while Mom poured coffee for Uncle Richard and Aunt Linda. The cat jumped and swung her paws at the feathers at the end of the wand, sometimes catching them and bending the wand towards her as she bit at the feathers. She was strong. Mom was going to have to watch herself around Tabitha when the cat got the zoomies, so she didn't trip over her. Samson was thankfully past that stage; the surgery had mellowed him out, so he was a lap cat for the most part. Rachel and Emma were overjoyed to have him home, and Samson seemed content exploring the nooks and crannies of the new house, going up and down the stairs; he needed the exercise, because Mom had overfed him, but Al couldn't be mad at her for that, because Samson could be very persuasive when he wanted food or treats.

Tabitha soon got bored of the game and walked away with tail high in disdain. Al switched on the TV and found the news. To his surprise, he saw Joanie in her uniform, giving a statement about something he missed happening in Langley.

"Mom, Joanie's on TV again," he called.

"Oh!" Mom looked at her two guests. "She's an RCMP sergeant in Langley, you know. Sometimes I have her over for coffee. She was so good to me while Al was in his coma. She drove me to and from the hospital many times."

"Always good to have a cop looking after you," Richard said.

"They don't like that word, you know," Mom said. "They prefer police. Joanie told me. She's the media relations officer for her detachment, you know. When Agnes' ex-husband was killed by the Mercers' hired men, she went on TV and called them out. She was formidable. I would have been afraid of her if I were those men. But then they tried to kill her too, and Al's friend Lauren and that retired detective stopped them."

"We heard about the detective," Richard said. "We didn't hear anything about your friend, though, Al."

"We're all fortunate that she wasn't mentioned," Al said. "Media exposure isn't something private investigators want; it makes their job harder when they're recognized."

"Agnes is your friend who was with you at the event, is that right, Al?" Aunt Linda asked him.

"That's right. She gave testimony that led to the Mercers' arrest. Her ex was most likely guilty of the murder of J.J., the Mercers' first born son, and they had him killed to avenge J.J."

"Agnes is more than Al's friend," Mom clarified. "They used to be together. Al probably would have married her if she hadn't moved away."

"Is that right?" Richard said, eyebrows raised. "You didn't mention that when you introduced her to us at the event."

"Hard to mention a thing like that with my wife standing right beside me," Al said, chuckling.

"Rachel, right?" Linda said. "She's beautiful, Al. Don't let her get away."

"I'll do my best." It still amazed him, though, that she stayed with him. She could have her pick of men even in her late forties, and Al felt himself to be, at best, in the middle of the bell curve of attractiveness, attributes and prosperity. When he watched Joe entering her with his monster of a cock last night, saw her eyes nearly roll back in her head as she felt every inch of it, it hit home that, if Joe suddenly decided he no longer wanted to stay married to Lauren and wanted Rachel to run away with him, there wasn't anything Al could offer her to make her stay, not when he'd cheated on her with Lauren himself. And what about Sunny? Rachel hadn't given him many details of her time with Sunny, but Al knew he wasn't as handsome as Sunny was, nor did he have the man's bountiful hair.

Maybe there was something intangible Rachel got from him that the others didn't give her, as satisfying as her experiences with them might have been. That was the only way he could explain it. They had their marriage, two adopted teenagers, and a cat, and Rachel seemed content with that, so why rock the boat? She could give her body to them from time to time, but as long as he had her heart...

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