Ginger stood next to her brother, holding his hand.

For a long moment Lisa simply stood and looked at them. She didn't know what kind of reception they would give her. They didn't know why she had left, only that she had gone away.

Lisa looked at them, her eyes misty with tears.

Toby, a year older than his sister, was taller than she had remembered. But at his age, boys grew fast, she knew. He was now almost as tall as she was, dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and pair of faded jeans. He had worn and scuffed sneakers on his feet. He needed a hair-cut, she noticed.

Ginger stood close to her brother. Her huge green eyes gazing back at Lisa. Her name was Mona, but she had been called Ginger since she had been born. Her hair was a beautiful copper color, long and wavy. Her small mouth was full-lipped, with a pretty pout to it.

Lisa wondered if Ginger would ever start to grow. The girl was only about four-feet-nine inches tall, but her body was showing the signs of curves and bumps and hollows. She wore a short, white dress and her small tits could already be seen. Time for her to wear bras, Lisa thought as she studied her daughter.

Lisa set her suitcase down, undecided what her actions should be. Her arms lifted and a smile played nervously about her lips.

Ginger turned loose of her brother's hand and ran swiftly into her mother's arms. Lisa began to cry softly with happiness as she hugged her daughter tightly. Then Toby was with them, his arms around his mother's waist, hugging her. Lisa cried and kissed them, mussing her son's hair.

"I'm glad you're home, Mother," Ginger sniffled. "Why didn't you come home sooner?"

Ignoring the question, Lisa picked up her suitcase and they started from the bus station. After placing her suitcase in the front seat of the taxi, next to the driver, Lisa hugged her children again.