Let Them Fall (Fall #1)

Chapter 1

MAYA MCDONALD-JACKSON

She had lived there with her mother and father; except now that the divorce was final, her mother, Maggie McDonald, was moving back to her small childhood town of Maplewood, Vermont. She’d picked her up at school for fall break—I need my babygirl, her mother had said—and they were off.

Maya had complicated feelings about Boston. She’d grown up there, born to her white, beautiful, blonde mother whose eyes looked like the sky in June, and her Black father, his skin, eyes, and hair all complementary shades of a sturdy, deep brown.

Being biracial in Boston wasn’t anything too abnormal.

No, the thing about Boston was that the history of staunch racial segregation had deep roots in the city.

Even on college campuses. She’d wanted to escape, but one just doesn’t say no to the chance to attend Harvard, where she was reminded all the time how different she was.

“So you got the looks, but—” her mother theatrically put her fist in front of Maya’s face like a microphone, waiting for her to fill in the lyrics.

Maya smiled weakly. “Mom, I don’t sing unless it’s karaoke and the last stop of the night.”

Her mother scoffed. “Fine, it’s just that you’re so quiet! I know this is a change. I know,” she paused and seemed to swallow what she was going to say. After a moment she said, “I’m sorry, Maya, thank you for coming with me, especially during your break. I’m—”

“We don’t have to talk about it, Mom. I’ll be fine, I didn’t even live with you and Dad anymore, it wasn’t—”

“It was still your home. Where you grew up. I don’t care what you say, it was your home. Your home is where you are kept safe. Your home is where you are loved, truly. It was a part of you and still is, like Maplewood is for me.”

“Is that why you’re going back? You want to go back to your home? With…” Maya didn’t finish the sentence. Her mom was cagey about her relationship with Maya’s grandparents.

Maggie pursed her lips in thought. “Maplewood is one of my homes. But it was also the last place I—” Her mom seemingly brought herself back to the present, and Maya turned to see her expression tighten. “It just feels like a good place to return to.”

Maya hadn’t spent much time in Maplewood.

She got the sense from her parents’ hushed conversations and side comments that her maternal grandparents hadn’t been big fans of her father, and so they didn’t visit.

Neither of her parents seemed close to their own parents at all.

They’d attended her grandfather’s funeral, but that was it.

What Maya could glean from her parents’ hushed whispers was that Maggie’s parents were racist. Maya wondered if her grandmother saw Maya and her father as some kind of stain on her mother.

Maya was tall and curvy, with tawny brown skin and thick curly black hair.

She wasn’t the type of biracial girly who appeared ethnically ambiguous.

She also wasn’t close enough to white to achieve the level of “biracial” the Kardashian-Jenner clan seemed to have strived for the majority of their careers.

No, she was a brown girl. There was no way around it, especially in the summer when her light brown skin deepened with every day in the hot sun.

Like now, by fall, she’d reached her peak shade of brown.

“Will you see Grandma more now that you’re going to live in Maplewood?” Maya was careful to emphasize that her mother would be the one living in Maplewood. Maya absolutely would visit, but she was not interested in taking up residence in a small, sleepy town.

“Hmmm,” her mother pursed her lips, looking deep in thought as another Shania song filled the midsize SUV.

Maya didn’t press, afraid the answer would confirm her fears and hurt.

She knew what rejection felt like, and she hated the idea that perhaps her and her father’s brown skin was the reason her grandmother had rejected her mother.

Her skin had set her apart from her peers in Bedford.

There had been a few outspoken asshats, but the majority of Maya’s experience had been one of general acceptance and warmth, with this undercurrent of—difference.

She couldn’t describe it, but it was something that was always there, clinging to all of her interactions and stolen moments.

It was the thing in between, “Oh is it possible for you to wash and straighten your hair before we all get ours done?” and “We just LOVE Michelle Obama, you could grow up to be just like her!”

Whatever it was, people tried to pretend it didn’t exist, not with the massive Black Lives Matter sign just outside of the city. It acted like a talisman whenever there was a whisper of an accusation of intolerance.

Maya was sure Maplewood didn’t even have a Black Lives Matter sign. No talisman there. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. Her mom was setting up roots again in Maplewood, not her.

Still she wondered, would she be seen in Maplewood?

Would she connect with anyone there? Her gut clenched in anticipation of something she knew her mother would insist didn’t exist in her hometown.

Her mother’s hometown. Maya had the feeling they were driving towards both a new beginning and a goodbye of sorts, but Maya surmised that was how all new chapters began.

Still, she was there for a long weekend and would at least settle for a good time.

“Ain’t nothing better, we beat the odds together,” her mother’s off-key singing brought her back to the car. “So you’re really going to make me sing this one alone, too?”

“Seems like you’ve got it handled,” Maya replied.

“Oh come on, it’s SHANIA,” her mother said, like Maya didn’t understand that she was one of the Queens, the Shania Twain.

Maya understood. It was just at that moment, Maya didn’t care.

She was too wound up with the anxiety her past experiences were dredging up.

Though she supposed anxiety might be a permanent state for her during her final year of undergrad.

Her professors and advisors tried to comfort her by telling her that she had the rest of her life to figure it all out—but that just made things worse.

She tried not to picture herself wandering aimlessly, forever.

“Suit yourself, it’s going to be a long trip for you otherwise,” her mom lamented. “At least we’re getting back for fall. This time of year is going to make our new home worth it — I can feel it.”

“Your new home, Mom,” Maya reminded her.

“Our new home. I know you have your apartment, but what if you don’t want to stay in Boston? You can’t tell me you are going to miss that city after all the grief you’ve given me and your father about it over the years,” her mom said, laughing.

“Who knows, it’s the home I know,” Maya replied, turning to look out the window.

“Oh please, home isn’t only a place. It’s people, and your father and I are your home. You’ll also see him obviously. But I will be in Maplewood and I am also your home.”

“Where are we staying again, and how come not with Grandma?” Despite returning to Maplewood, Maggie hadn’t yet found a physical home, but Maya knew she was keen to leave the Boston area and her old life behind as soon as possible.

“Well, your grandmother can hardly fit us in the assisted living space she lives in now. No, we are staying with my friend, Diana Miller—I mean, Blake. She has this huge working orchard property with plenty of space. She and I went to high school together.” Her mom shook her head in time with the music’s beat, seeming distracted.

Maya noted that Maggie had said “your grandmother” rather than “my mother”.

This was the first time Maya had heard of this Diana Miller, now Blake. “So you have been friends since high school? How come she never visited us in Boston?” Maya hoped it wasn’t the same reason she suspected of her grandmother.

Her mother was quiet for a moment, humming to herself and looking as though she’d lapsed into a memory.

She shook her head and said, “We sort of…fell out of touch. Life happened. I moved away for school and then got married, and immediately had you — she has a daughter about your age.” Her mother chuckled.

“We always dreamed about having kids at the same time. Too bad we weren’t able to raise you girls together.

” After another long pause she said, “Anyway—her family makes a mean hard apple cider.

Maybe you can meet and make some friends now so you know who's who when you come home from school. She always needs help in the orchard—and I do know how you love a cider.”

“I already have friends,” Maya said, which was sort of true.

Her course load currently kept her from making deep personal relationships, and navigating Harvard’s social scene outside of certain spaces as a proud Black girl left a lot to be desired.

Still, she had acquaintances. She wasn’t totally antisocial.

She filled any cracks in said social life with online writing communities and the occasional man or woman for the night.

Besides, Maplewood was a small town. Everyone already knew everyone.

She turned in time to see the pleading look on her mother’s face. Shit. She felt a twinge of guilt.

“Fine, I’ll indulge you. Tell me more about this cider?”

Maya and Maggie had fallen into comfortable silence all the way up the highway and through an exit that put them close, but not quite, to Burlington, in the small town of Maplewood. Maya thought the name was a little on the nose, even for Vermont.

“Wow this place hasn’t changed a bit,” her mom said. They were at a four-way intersection that Maya suspected was the center of town. There was a statue of an old white man on a horse. Presumably he had done something important, likely at the expense of the Indigenous peoples.

“Down there is downtown, well, downtown for Maplewood, shops and whatnot. I wonder if Mr. Hodge’s bookstore is still there?” They made a turn in the opposite direction of where her mom had gestured, so Maya guessed they’d find out later.

They moved through town until it morphed into old school colonial-style homes, all well maintained.The fall foliage that lined the streets made them all seem like they were out of a film.

“I used to live on the other side of town,” her mother said.

“This is the nice part. I grew up under way more modest circumstances. Your grandmother would never admit to it, never let anyone drop me off or pick me up at our house.” She said it lightly, but Maya detected a hint of bitterness.

It was the first time in a long time that Maya had heard her speak about how she grew up.

They turned down a long, seemingly deserted road that inclined slightly.

The trees became more and more uniform until they came to a clearing and Maya gasped.

She was looking at a beautiful sprawling property that her mom’s description hadn’t done justice.

The trees they’d passed were clearly part of the property’s operation, and Maya could see that more groups of trees lined the perimeter, surrounding several structures.

At the top of the hill sat a large house, with large windows and a wraparound porch.

Maggie drove past the parking lot, down a narrow path—Were they supposed to be driving on it?—and up what Maya realized was a private driveway leading to the large house she had seen a few minutes before.

“This is where we’re staying? You said family orchard but I guess I didn’t realize.”

“Just for a little while,” her mother said. Maya guessed that her mother probably felt some shame, having to ask for help from someone she had previously lost touch with.

“What do you mean? This place is stunning.” At least if the people suck, the view is great. It looked like Maya could make it a good time.