Several long minutes slipped by before the bathroom door finally opened. The waiting group outside straightened instantly, their eyes darting toward the sound of the latch clicking. Amelia stepped out into the room at last, dressed in soft pajamas that clung slightly where her hair had dampened the fabric. The steam from her recent shower still lingered faintly in the air around her.
She tried to arrange her face into the calm, capable look of someone who had everything under control, but her body betrayed her. Every step revealed the truth she wanted to hide. She moved with deliberate slowness, forcing her stride into something resembling normal, but the faint limp was impossible to miss. With each shift of weight, her ankle sent out a sharp protest that made her lips twitch and her breath catch ever so slightly. She thought she masked it well, but the children had sharp eyes trained by love and worry.
