Any minute, she thought. She’d be here any minute. Liz shifted both bags to one hand and nervously brushed at her hair. Passengers waited for their flights by napping in the black plastic chairs or reading guidebooks. She watched a woman check her lipstick in a compact mirror and wondered if she had time to run into the ladies room to examine her own face. Gnawing on her lip, she decided she couldn’t leave, even for a moment. Neither could she sit, so she paced back and forth in front of the wide windows and watched the planes come and go. It was late. Planes were always late when you were waiting for them. The sky was clear and blue. She knew it was equally clear in Houston because she’d been checking the weather for days. But the plane was late. Impatient, she walked back to security to ask about the status. She should have known better.

Liz got a shrug and the Mexican equivalent of It’ll be here when it comes. In another ten minutes, she was ready to scream. Then she saw it. She didn’t have to hear the flight announcement to know. With her heart thudding dully, she waited by the door.

Faith wore blue striped pants and a white blouse. Her hair’s grown, Liz thought as she watched her daughter come down the steps. She’s grown—though she knew it would never do to tell Faith so. She’d just wrinkle her nose and roll her eyes. Her palms were wet. Don’t cry, don’t cry, Liz ordered herself. But the tears were already welling. Then Faith looked up and saw her. With a grin and a wave she was racing forward. Liz dropped her bags and reached out for her daughter.

“Mom, I got to sit by the window, but I couldn’t see our house.” As she babbled, Faith held her mother’s neck in a stranglehold. “I brought you a present.”

With her face buried against Faith’s throat, Liz drew in the scents—powder, soap and chocolate from the streak on the front of the white blouse. “Let me look at you.” Drawing her back, Liz soaked up the sight of her. She’s beautiful, Liz realized with a jolt. Not just cute or sweet or pretty any longer. Her daughter was beautiful.

I can’t let her go again. It hit her like a wall. I’ll never be able to let her go again. “You’ve lost a tooth,” Liz managed as she brushed back her daughter’s hair.

“Two.” Faith grinned to show the twin spaces. “Grandma said I could put them under my pillow, but I brought them with me so I can put them under my real pillow. Will I get pesos?”

“Yes.” Liz kissed one cheek, then the other. “Welcome home.”