— Absolutely not, she replies, but I don’t really have a choice, do I?
I place my hands at her waist, preparing to lift her. The music swells.
— Now.
I lift her, and for one perfect moment, everything works. She’s light in my arms, graceful despite her nerves. But as I lower her, her foot catches the hem of her dress. I see the panic flash across her face as she tries to recover.
— Oh no!
I try to steady her, but the momentum is too strong. We stumble—straight toward my mother, who had stepped far too close to the dance floor.
Everything slows. Jane falling. Me trying to catch her. My mother frozen in horror.
Impact.
Jane grabs onto the nearest thing—my mother’s evening gown.
The sound of tearing cuts through the silence.
My mother lets out a strangled cry as a significant portion of her dress gives way, revealing a silk petticoat no one was meant to see.
— Oh my God, Jane gasps, scrambling upright. Mrs. McGregor, I am so, so sorry?—
My mother’s face settles into a glacial mask I know all too well.
— I… it was an accident, Jane stammers, cheeks blazing.
A murmur ripples through the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Heather watching with barely concealed satisfaction. Phones are subtly raised—exactly what we don’t need.
My mother clears her throat, gathering what remains of her dignity.
— I suppose, she says coldly, traditional Scottish dances are a bit too sophisticated for some people.
The remark—loud enough for nearby guests to hear—sparks a sudden, unexpected anger in me.
— Mother, I say firmly, it was an accident.
— A predictable one, she replies sharply. Perhaps with more preparation?—
— Jane has trained for days for this dance, I cut in, my voice carrying further than I intended. Days learning a choreography she had never seen before, just to honor our traditions.
I step forward and wrap an arm protectively around Jane’s shoulders.
— Most people here couldn’t execute half the steps she just performed perfectly up until that final jump.
Silence falls.
I’m not known for publicly defying my mother.
— Callum, Jane murmurs, embarrassed, that’s not necessary?—
— It is, I say, not taking my eyes off my mother. No one deserves to be humiliated for trying to belong to this family. Jane has made extraordinary efforts since she arrived. She’s learning our customs, tolerating our eccentricities, adapting to a completely foreign environment. The least we can do is acknowledge that.
You could hear a pin drop.
My mother looks at me like I’ve just announced I’m demolishing the castle to build an amusement park.
— That dress, she says finally, belonged to my grandmother.
