Free The Second Time by Janet Dailey Page A

back. You might not have believed it was your child I was carrying. Even if you had, how would you have taken care of us? You didn’t have a steady job, and all you owned was a broken-down old boat and the clothes on your back.”
    “And you didn’t have any faith in my ability to take care of you,” he declared grimly, tipping hishead back to toss down the second drink. “If I had been Simpson and discovered my loving wife was going to have another’s man’s child, I would have thrown you out.”
    “Thank heaven you weren’t Simpson,” Dawn murmured with a trace of resentment for his callous attitude. “He had more than enough grounds for divorce, but he was willing to forgive and forget.”
    Only later had she learned that there never had been a divorce in the Lord family, and Simpson had been a great one for upholding the family tradition. Still, even if he had felt honor-bound to continue their marriage, it didn’t alter the love and understanding he had shown her, and the kindness he had shown her son. She couldn’t have asked more from a man than Simpson had given her.
    “So you stayed with him.” A humorless sound like a laugh lifted the corners of his mouth, widening it into a derisive smile. “Why not? He was filthy rich. That’s why you married him—to get your hands on his money.” He lifted his glass in a mock salute. “I never did congratulate you on your success.”
    Dawn ignored the latter, failing again to correct his impression that she had been left a wealthy widow. “That’s why I married him,” she admitted. “But his money had very little to do with the reason I stayed with him, beyond assuring my child would be well cared for. After Simpson explained that he couldn’t be the father of the child I was carrying, I had to tell himabout you. He already knew. I think he even knew why I married him but it didn’t matter. You can imagine how I felt.”
    “No, I can’t imagine how you felt.” Slater shook his head, his voice running low with contempt. He deliberately refused to understand or even concede she was capable of remorse.
    Nothing would be gained by responding to his caustic retort. Dawn felt more could be accomplished by trying to make him understand the reasons behind some of her actions.
    “I remember Simpson telling me that, in a way, he was glad he couldn’t produce children because he wasn’t obligated to make an advantageous business marriage to consolidate wealth since it would require an heir. He was free to marry the girl he loved, which was me.” She bowed her head slightly as she spoke. “He loved me enough to accept another man’s child into his home. I know you’ll find this hard to believe, Slater, but by then, I was tired of hurting people. After hurting so many, I couldn’t hurt Simpson more than I already had. I couldn’t give him my love, because you had it, but I decided that I could give him happiness. So, yes, I stayed with him—out of a mixture of gratitude and guilt—and I worked at being a good wife to bring him some of the happiness he deserved.”
    “And you gave him my son,” Slater shot the accusation at her, ignoring all else she had told him. “I suppose Simpson passed Randy off as his own.”
    “No. For Randy’s sake, he let him take thefamily surname, but Simpson never legally adopted him. And it’s your name that is listed as father on his birth certificate,” Dawn explained. “Simpson played the role of Dutch uncle to Randy, but he never usurped your position as his father. He was adamant about that.”
    Her answer brought a moment’s silence. When Slater finally spoke, it was with considerably less heat and bitterness. “I guess I owe him something for that.” He set his empty glass on the rattan table and squared around to face her. “Which brings us back to Randy, and what’s to be done now.”
    “Not having a father never bothered Randy too much while Simpson was alive.” She threaded her fingers together,