I walked in the back door, the blanket still clutched to my chest, barely noticing the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. When Dad's rumbling baritone broke through, my head snapped up and I hurried down the hall. No big surprise to hear his voice, but there was a tone to it that sounded almost happy.

Had something happened?

I'm sure I must have looked funny as I came to a halt just across the threshold, a child's blue blankie in my hands, the front of me covered ...