"Oh, God," she had cried out, "Bill… did you give Lisa her bottle?" She ran into the small bedroom and to the crib where her infant daughter lay crying. She saw the note pinned to the crib, and her heart almost stopped.

Her husband was gone. And this time, she knew in her heart he would never come back. The gambling fever was too much in his blood for him to be tied to any one woman or a family. He had to be where the dice were rolling and the stake horses running.

Laura hadn't even been able to cry. She had to keep her courage now, with Lisa to care for and a new baby coming. She wondered how she could even earn enough for them to be fed.

When the nurse showed her their son, she cried. She called him Billy, after his father, but she never held him close to her breast or cuddled him or felt his sucking mouth on her nipple. The doctor had arranged for him to be given to foster parents in a small Missouri town. There was no other choice, as the doctor pointed out, and thinking more about her son's welfare than her own, Laura had agreed. It had been good, for the Baylors had loved and guided and cared for Billy far better than she could have, and she would be forever grateful to them.

But now, the moment of truth was at hand. Thirteen years had passed, and she and her son were strangers. She had managed, through hard work, to maintain herself and Lisa, and she had to admit it would have been too tough to handle if Billy had been there too. But it was all over now. Billy was coming home… to his rightful mother, and to a wonderful man who would love him and be more than a father to him!

Ray knelt beside the tub, his eyes fastened on the firm swell of his wife's shapely young breasts bobbing above the water line, the rosy pointed nipples popping in and out of the water. His eyes drifted below the water to the beautifully tempting body, its creamy color-accented by the white of the marble tub.