I reached into the canvas bag beside the rocker and picked up the yellow baby blanket.

The fourteen-dollar price tag was gone, but the tiny blue thread where the clerk had snipped off the plastic tag still dangled from one corner.

I smoothed the yellow fleece across my knees, running my thumbs along the finished edge.

It was soft, warm and completely mine, paid for with clean money from my own hand in a public aisle where nobody could ever hide the truth again.

I folded the blanket neatly in half and then in half again, lining the corners up perfectly.

I laid the soft yellow blanket over my baby’s chest and tucked the edges under her sides.

She rested her chin on the top fold and let out a long, quiet breath as she drifted off.

The warm glow of a little night-light fell across the folded yellow blanket.

He cost me everything I had, but this blanket saved us both.