Under the Heavens

By Thomas Nye

Lenny happened to notice his blurry reflection on the windowpane. He knew it was his image; nevertheless, he couldn't recognize his own face. Those almond-shaped eyes and dark-brown hair belonged to him, yet, inside, he felt disconnected from his past, having never known his own father. Grandpa had insisted, "Leonard, needs to come spend a summer at the home-place ..." A teenage boy, struggling with his identity, reluctantly leaves his modern, city-life behind and enters the slow-paced, mysterious world of the Amish. Grandpa teaches Lenny to farm with draft horses, a tranquil experience that seeps into his soul, changing his perspective. A neighbor girl appears while he is working in the fields, weaving a romance in the fabric of his summer. Lenny discovers that everyday on an Amish farm is an adventure. Thunderstorms rumble above, as a fragile relationship, between an Amish family and their non-Amish visitor, begins to unravel. Daybreak in a cow pasture, plowing with horses, enchanting moonlit buggy rides, and picturesque sunsets are all part of life, Under the Heavens.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CrossLink Publishing
• Release date: Dec 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781393488774

Thomas Nye

Thomas Nye, author of Under the Heavens and Catbird Singing, lives near an Amish community, where he grew to know and respect his Amish neighbors. His love for draft horses deepened that connection and compelled him to write about his experiences. He and his wife have five adult children.

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Chapter 1

The Storm

A teenage boy named Lenny rode silently through pristine Iowan fields, gliding along on a set of tracks. He gazed out of the windows, enduring a continual rocking motion. With a whistle at every intersection, the iron horse chugged through small towns, clattering over bridges, snaking along rivers, and racing on to the next station. Fields in the background rolled by slowly, nearer fences moved by faster, and trees close to the tracks rushed past. Lenny happened to notice his blurry reflection on the windowpane. He knew it was his image; nevertheless, he couldn’t recognize his own face. Those almond-shaped eyes and dark-brown hair belonged to him, yet, inside, he felt disconnected from his past, having never known his own father. The boy tried imagining what his biological father must look like by examining his own likeness on the window.

Lenny pushed his feet against the floor, almost as though he could slow the forward momentum of a locomotive; he dreaded his destination that much. He had never spent more than a day with his Amish relatives, and now he was going to spend a whole summer on their farm. He loved to look at their horses, but he was not comfortable being up close to them, or riding in a buggy. Grandpa had insisted, Leonard needs to come spend a summer at the home-place and learn something about farming.

The boy tried to talk his mom out of making him go. These aren’t my relatives, Mom. They are your husband Jake’s family. They don’t even like me!

She disagreed. Grandpa wants you to come to his farm. He likes you! Then, looking Lenny in his eyes, she told him, Sometimes the most difficult things in life make the best memories. It turned out to be useless to argue; there was no way out of it.

Rumbling to a stop, the train moaned and hissed. A little girl up front pointed outside and shouted, Hey, look, there are some Amish boys out there with really huge horses! Lenny’s face got hot as he realized she was pointing at his step-cousins. They were waiting for him, wearing suspenders and big straw hats. He lingered until everyone else had exited, hoping no one would see him leave with Amish people. Walking away from the train station and colorful modern people, Lenny felt as if all color were drained from his life. It seemed as though he had walked into an old black-and-white photograph.

Here’s our wagon, one of the cousins pointed to an old, high-wheel wagon that looked like it belonged to a display in a museum. Taking Lenny’s luggage, the Amish brothers went to work adjusting their loaded wagon, disagreeing about how best to fit Lenny’s things in. The city boy stood eyes fixed on the massive black horses hulking before him, harness hanging in a confusing web over each horse. Lenny stepped cautiously toward their heads. Each wore a leather bridle with blinders so that the eyes could not be seen until a person stood directly in front of the animal. He had expected hard, cruel eyes to flash out from the beasts, but instead was stunned by their gentle expression. Shining black eyes looked back at him. One horse reached his thick head over, rubbing it on the other, and then shook it, as if to rid itself of the bridle. The other horse gently nibbled at its teammate’s harness. Both horses’ eyebrows arched, as if asking a question. Reaching a hand slowly toward the large head closest to him, Lenny wanted to pet it between the eyes. A voice from behind startled him. What are you doing?

Oh, nothing, Lenny answered. He hadn’t notice his cousins finish loading his luggage. They climbed into their wagon, and he followed. The brothers, both square and stocky, sat on a small seat in front that didn’t seem to have room for three, so Lenny sat on his suitcase in the back, gripping its handle. Sam took the driving lines and, without a word, he had both large horses trotting forward. Their big hooves clomped thunderously on the pavement, steel wheels rumbling on the road as Lenny held onto his suitcase. They headed out of town along a gravel road leading into his cousin’s old-fashioned world.

*   *   *

Great billowing storm clouds rolled above them, and Lenny wondered how horses would react should it thunder. At home, the city boy usually hung out in the basement during bad weather; while riding in a horse-drawn wagon, all he could do was hunker down and hope for the best. Agonizing silence hung between the boys. Lenny wished he was driving a car so he could turn on a radio. In a slow-moving Amish vehicle, that wasn’t an option.

They rode over long, sloping hills of Iowan farmland for what seemed like an eternity before there was any change in scenery. Rising up ahead, tall concrete towers of a feed mill stood castle-like with a giant Y painted near the top of the highest tower. Craning his neck to see all the grain elevators, Lenny thought Yoder’s Feed seemed to grow even taller as their wagon passed. He realized this was the last outpost of civilization before they headed deep into Amish country. Lenny watched from his suitcase perch as they headed away from the small village, Yoder Towers shrinking as the modern world disappeared from his life.

An Amish man appeared, walking toward them on the road. When the man got within earshot, he called, Sam, David, you boys are just on time! My tractor is stuck, and I was going home to get my horses to pull it out. Why don’t we see if your grandpa’s horses can do it? Without saying any more, the older man jumped into the wagon alongside Lenny. Sam headed his wagon through the nearest gate into a field, where they found a tractor half sunk in mud.

Whose boy are you? The Amish man looked at Lenny, waiting for an answer.

The boy’s face got hot; he didn’t know how to answer that question. Sam bailed him out by answering, He is Jake’s stepson. The man gave a disapproving look, and nothing more was said. Lenny assumed the Amish man already knew about him.

They pulled up beside the helpless tractor; everyone jumped out and, in a few moments, they had both massive horses unhooked from the wagon, in place and ready to pull. This was something Lenny hadn’t seen before. Sam held his horses in check as the older man mounted his tractor, starting it up with a pop, causing both horses to jump. Lenny doubted these animals could pull out a heavy-metal machine.

In a scene that filled his heart with wonder, both horses arched their massive black necks and heaved forward. Muscles rippled in their shoulders and rumps and coursed down through their heavy boned legs. One of the giants shook his thick mane and snorted as though gathering his strength, which seemed to spur on the other. These horses dug their hooves in mud as the tractor wheels spun a little and then took hold, spinning up out of holes it created when attempting to free itself. Sam called his horses to a stop when the tractor rolled onto solid ground.

Lenny found himself letting out a victory shout when it happened, and the others all looked at him as if to see what was wrong. Without much more than a nod, the older man drove off to finish his fieldwork as soon as the horses were unhooked. His cousins hitched them to the wagon again; without a comment, they headed back down the road. Lenny couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

Wow, that was amazing! he called from his luggage seat in the back. Sam and David both turned and looked at him as though surprised to hear him speak. That was so cool! Is that the first time you’ve had horses pull out a tractor? Both Amish boys gave Lenny a blank look.

After a long, awkward silence, finally, the older brother spoke up, Everyone around here knows Grandpa’s horses; they’ve pulled out lots more than tractors!

The boy in back didn’t quite know what they meant, but he didn’t know how to ask any of the million questions that he had on his mind, so he just let it go.

Off in the distance, thunder could be heard, even over rumbling wagon wheels and hoofbeats on a gravel road. Dark, threatening storm clouds churned above horses and boys while Lenny sat watching the sky as if somehow he could hold back disaster by worrying. A sudden gust of wind blew across the road, tossing up a plastic bag that had been lying in the ditch. Both large black horses jumped aside, startled, but Sam held them in check. Lenny could not hold his heartbeat in check; he sank down lower in the wagon box, fearing they all could all be killed. He had never known anyone personally who died, or been to a funeral, or even seen a dead person.

The sky seemed alive and angry. All three teenage boys searched the heavens for signs of a funnel, as dark clouds rolled every which way. A smoothness and roundness in the cloud formation that hung over them made it amazing though terrifying.

Just then, they crossed a hill that curved down sloping toward the Gingerich farm. Where a road split the hill, they turned into a lane that was familiar to Lenny. He had always loved the sight of this farm, even though he was uncomfortable with those who lived here. A massive white barn in the center, surrounded by many smaller farm buildings, all of it hemmed in by pens and pasture fences. The large white farm house almost seemed small under sprawled out limbs of ancient maple trees surrounding it. Branches were swaying in gusts of an approaching storm, sending seedlings spinning down towards the wagon. Both big horses picked up speed, heading for their sturdy, massive barn home. Pulling into a large open doorway on the side of the barn, they came to a halt. The brothers quickly unhitched the team while Lenny watched, amazed that they were not afraid of being kicked. They reached right behind the legs of the nervous horses that pranced and stomped because of an impending storm. Once loose from the wagon, both horses were let free. They headed into the belly of the barn, entering an area with horse stalls. The boys followed them in and began to unharness and brush them quickly. In only moments, another big door was slid open, and they let their huge horses rush out into the wind.

The brothers who had been hurrying instantly changed their demeanor and calmly followed their horses out under the fore-shoot, a porchlike overhang of the barn. The new boy followed his cousins, not knowing what else to do, and all three of them stood there watching the horses and storm. The massive horses were rolling in soft dirt near the barn, as though trying to rid themselves of the harness that was already off. All at once, both beasts rose up and ran off with a squeal, joining up with a herd of horses, swirling and circling around each other. There were at least five really big draft horses he could see, and some other smaller buggy type horses and a pony in the mix. Lenny loved horses and could have stood there watching them for hours if the sky hadn’t been so dark and threatening. Churning clouds hung above the herd that now grazed as if in a race, each trying to eat more than the others before the storm hit.

A great flash of light followed by a loud crash caused the city boy to jump. He looked at the Amish boys on the left, and then to the horses; none of them seemed to be startled at all.

Yes, God, Amen!

Lenny jumped again, hearing a deep voice right behind him. A large bull of a man stood there, watching the storm unfold with them. He didn’t have a hat on, and his wild hair was tossed by the wind. His white shirt rippled and seemed ready to blow off, had his suspenders not held it on. He never looked at the boys; his strange eyes remained fixed on the sky, and a big grin spread across his face. The heavens lit up again with a flash of lightning and a mighty crash.

The man repeated, Amen … you know God, you know!

This was too weird for the non-Amish boy, but he knew Truman was a little different. Lenny’s mom had told him one time, Jake’s brother, Truman, got kicked in the head by a horse when he was twelve. He never fully recovered.

Being unmarried, he still lived here with Lenny’s grandparents in a small house next to his aunt and uncle’s big farmhouse. Lenny looked back at the sky in fear as wind gusts sent some limbs blowing out of a tree in the pasture. No one seemed to worry about how bad the storm might get, but the new boy found he was backing up toward a barn door. Another flash and its corresponding peal of thunder seemed to tear open the sky and release a storehouse of rain. Undaunted by sheets of falling rain, the horses grazed, while an odd group of relatives stood watching this marvel of nature. Cool, misty gusts blew in, getting them all a little wet. The next bolt of lightning flashed with a powerful clap of thunder sounding simultaneously. It rang out and continued rumbling like massive boulders falling and echoing throughout the heavens. Lenny gave a start of surprise, feeling the very ground beneath him shake. The large, strange Amish man seemed to enjoy the storm, grinning as he spoke again, Yes, God, he belongs here … you know God.

Lenny was mystified! He wondered to himself if Truman actually thought the thunder was God speaking, and if he was weird enough to think he understood what God might be saying. In this moment, Lenny found the desire to go home was so great within him that he almost wanted to cry, but he was too old for that. Another round of thunder rolled, though not as loud and not right above the barn. At his own home, Lenny had been able to hide from storms and the voice of God in the basement.

These Amish boys didn’t seem to get too worked up about anything; when rain began to slow, they headed back into the barn’s dark interior. They didn’t explain where they were going, and Lenny was left wondering if he should follow or not.

Eh … where are you going? Lenny got brave enough to ask. The younger brother David spoke up.

We need to get our chores done before supper. Nothing more was said, so the newcomer tagged along, not knowing what else to do.

When they stepped outside, a black-flecked farm dog lowered his head, ears down, and walked around the stranger in a semicircle with a low growl. Lenny cautiously skirted around the dog and continued following David. The boys started up a gas-powered generator that sat in a small shed near the big barn. They headed through a concrete block building that was very clean and had a huge stainless steel tank for holding milk. Beyond that, through a swinging door, they entered a big open room with two rows of cows on either side with their backsides facing in. All the cows were held in place by a set of metal bars called stanchions, so they wouldn’t move around while being milked. Like everything else on this farm, these cows were all black and white. Once inside, a couple of Lenny’s girl cousins appeared and, without a word, joined in on the milking process. They did glance at their step-cousin and gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement, which made him feel a little better.

He idly watched as the Amish family scurried about doing a variety of odd jobs. Lenny stood at the head of one row of cows, looking down the line of big black-and-white bovine faces; they, in turn, looked back at him with large, dark eyes. They were eating ground corn the boys had scooped into a long trough, but they stopped eating occasionally to stare at the stranger. The nearest cow’s long tongue reached up into each nostril, cleaning out any grain that had stuck to her wet nose. His cousins made trips from the barn to the milk house, dumping buckets of creamy-white liquid into a large, silver tank. When all their work was done and everything cleaned up and put away, they all headed up to the big house for supper.

*   *   *

Uncle Alvin and Aunt Lydia took time to greet Lenny when he came in. Hello, Leonard, how are Jake and Susan these days? How are your sisters? It made him feel bad because they were Jake’s real daughters, and Lenny felt sure his relatives cared more about the girls than him. It occurred to Lenny how disappointed Jake must be not have a son of his own, only a stepson. Alvin’s whole family sat around a huge table and ate in silence. The city boy felt self-conscious about his clothes and hair; he felt so unlike them. Everything was awkward. Their world was so different from the one he had grown up in.

Time for prayer, Uncle Alvin said without emotion. As an outsider, the boy didn’t know what was next. He tried to look in Alvin’s eyes, but his uncle’s wire-rimmed glasses were glossed over with reflections, obscuring them.

As huge as the Gingerich house was, the family filled up every room, leaving no place for Lenny to be alone. After all lanterns were blown out, Lenny lay in the dark thinking about all that had happened that day. He hated how uncomfortable it was being around Sam and David; his cousins had nothing in common with him, and they were so quiet. They reminded him of Jake; he never had much to say either, and he had to wonder if it was a family thing. He remembered that Amish man asking, Whose boy are you? Those words were ringing in his ears; he couldn’t answer that question. He didn’t know who his father was or anything about what kind of person he might be or what kind of family he was from. Maybe he was someone famous, rich, or a great athlete. The boy felt like he couldn’t even know himself if he didn’t know who his own father was.

His mind replayed the vision of huge horses pulling a tractor out of the mud. He could still see them leaning into their harness, pulling with all of their might. He drifted off to sleep dreaming about draft horses pulling out tractors under troubled skies.

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Chapter 2

Into the Fog

An annoying fly kept buzzing against a window, finally landing on Lenny’s cheek until he was forced to wake up and deal with it. He lay there watching as it hit the window continuously, desperate to escape and obviously mystified by an invisible glass barrier. Lenny began to wonder why the other boys weren’t awake yet; it was light out. Looking around the empty room, he realized he was alone and jumped up. Pulling on the clothes he wore yesterday, the city boy hurried down the steps, through the kitchen, and was heading out the porch door when Aunt Lydia startled him by saying his name, Leonard!

Lenny hated being called Leonard, but he didn’t feel he could explain that to his Amish relatives, so he just answered, Yes.

The others are out finishing the chores, why don’t you go and get yourself ready for Church? Feeling a little embarrassed for sleeping in while the others were working, he slowly headed back upstairs and put on his normal Sunday clothes. By the time he was dressed and downstairs again, everyone was sitting around the table ready for breakfast. Aunt Lydia fixed a huge plate of fried mush. As soon as Lenny was seated, they prayed a silent prayer and quietly devoured a big stack of mush with their choice of sorghum or gravy with hard-boiled eggs in it. When everyone was finished eating, they prayed an after the meal prayer and headed out to the two buggies that had been made ready before breakfast.

Outside, a thick fog hung over everything. A mist filled the air; not enough to need a raincoat, but if a person stood still very long, they were going to get wet. Through the gray, Lenny could barely see the edges of the big barn and other farm buildings. That silver-flecked farm dog emerged out of a cloud, trotted up, and sat looking suspiciously at Lenny. Tall, lean buggy horses stood quietly in the haze, decked out in shiny leather harness, hitched to a black two-seated double-buggy. Lenny climbed in the backseat with Edwin and Perry, while Aunt Lydia hoisted both Viola and Elizabeth up to join them. Uncle Alvin and Aunt Lydia took a seat up front. Sam, David, Ruth, and Rosie all crowded into another buggy with only one seat and one horse. Both overloaded vehicles headed out the short lane, onto a gravel road with their farm dog following, until Uncle Alvin noticed and scolded him. Go home, Bob! The dog obeyed and turned back, disappearing into a haze.

From his place between Perry and Edwin, who each held a little sister on their laps, he could watch tall, thin horses trotting into a fog. In the morning coolness, big puffs of steam could be seen as horses exhaled in a rhythm as constant as their hoofbeats. Lenny could barely see the other buggy’s flashing lights and slow moving vehicle sign up ahead of them. He sat listening to his young cousins talking to each other in Pennsylvania Dutch the only language these little girls knew. They seemed to be talking about something behind them, so Lenny turned and looked out the small back window; another buggy was following them. Out each open side, they could see into ditches beside the road but not much beyond that. Here and there, a large tree stood near enough to be seen through thick fog or a fence row dripping wet, laced with spider webs.

After what seemed like a long buggy ride, Alvin turned his horses, and they trotted into a lane where a large barn seemed to rise up before them out of a cloud. Amish people dressed in black emerged through a foggy curtain. Faint outlines of buggies could be seen here and there all over the yard, and Alvin’s family found a place to park their two buggies. Aunt Lydia headed up to the house, followed by her daughters. Uncle Alvin headed over to join a circle of older men. The younger boys unhitched their horses, leading them into the big barn with their step-cousin following.

Lenny was unprepared for what he saw inside: what seemed like a hundred tall, dark buggy horses, all tied closely in rows. Sam and David led their horses into an empty spot and tied them. Younger boys stood in circles just the way older men had outside, conversing about farmwork. Every boy wore black pants and a matching vest, and a large-brim black hat. Everyone—that is, but Lenny, who felt really odd with his modern clothes. As if on cue, the boys started filing out of the barn heading for the house, with Lenny following. Everyone got into a long line, oldest men in front on down to little boys at the tail end. David told Lenny, Stand in front of me; you’re older than I am, and we go in by age.

The order of the whole thing was surprising to someone who wasn’t used to it. Every room had rows of benches. Elderly men took a seat closest to the center, middle-aged men filed through filling each row in order of age. Teenage boys sat behind young men, and, finally, the youngest boys took their place in the back. As Lenny walked past the older men, he felt they glared at him disapprovingly. He was glad he ended up against the wall because those on center benches had nothing to lean on. Older women began to file in, then younger women carrying babies, followed by teenage girls, and, finally, little girls against the back wall opposite Lenny. Once everyone was sitting down the meeting began.

One voice broke the silence—a long, slow note, almost a moan. Lenny wasn’t sure what was happening until everyone else joined in. Droning slowly in harmonies, all their voices scooped together in a sad sound that matched the day and how Lenny felt. He couldn’t join in because they sang in German, but he found it to be beautiful, though foreign in words and tone. Lenny wondered if he had slipped through a hole in time back into the Dark Ages. After several long, slow songs, everyone became silent again.

A man stood up, quoted a verse from the Bible in German, and then began preaching; his wire-rimmed glasses reflected light, concealing his eyes. His gray beard shook against his black, straight coat as he preached in a deep voice, like rumbling thunder. All the Amish men were wearing coats with no lapel, reminding the city boy of Catholic priests. Everything was confusing to Lenny, who didn’t understand German or any of the Amish traditions. At one-point, everyone rose, turned around, and knelt to pray; the new boy lagged behind. They prayed in German and reseated themselves; Lenny was the last to sit down. After that, he was content to watch younger children playing quietly on their mother’s laps. Some of the boys found ways to entertain themselves silently by poking each other. One boy unhooked, uncrossed, and rehooked suspenders of the boy in front of him so they hung loose. This caused boys around him to smirk, trying hard to squelch their laughter.

Looking out through a window, Lenny could see a couple of dogs running around in the yard and a few chickens pecking here and there. A gray cloudy sky hung outside, and it was still drizzling, lulling the boy into a daze. He nodded off for a moment until a deep rumbling sound woke him. He realized it was that same preacher’s voice; Lenny had to wonder what he was saying. It occurred to him that he should ask David what Bible verse was being preached. Lenny turned to the place in his English Bible; he couldn’t believe his eyes when he read it.

How great is God—beyond our understanding. … He fills his hands with lightning and commands it to strike the mark. His thunder announces the coming storm; even the cattle makes known its approach. At this, my heart pounds and leaps from its place. Listen! Listen to the roar of his voice, to the rumbling that comes from his mouth. He unleashes his lightning beneath the whole heaven and sends it to the ends of the earth. After that comes the sound of his roar; he thunders with his majestic voice. When his voice resounds, he holds nothing back. God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; he does great things beyond our understanding. He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’ and to the rain shower, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’ So that all men he has made may know his work, he stops every man from his labor. … He loads the clouds with moisture; he scatters his lightning through them. At his direction, they swirl around over the face of the whole earth to do whatever he commands them. He brings the clouds to punish men, or to water his earth and show his love.

Job 36:26 - 37:13

Lenny sat in disbelief. So, it is true, thunder is God’s voice! The city boy still didn’t know what he thought about all this, he looked over in the direction of the older men. They all had beards except Truman and a few other bachelors, who didn’t have the traditional chin-beard Amish men start growing at marriage. Truman sat quietly listening, no doubt, having his ideas about God speaking through thunder confirmed. The boy thought about how he had always hated lightning and storms, wondering if he should reconsider. He looked back out at the gray sky and watched raindrops land on the window; each began slowly moving down the pane until joining with other drops, picking up speed and running off the glass.

When church was over, everyone had filed out in order of age and gender. All the boys gathered in the barn and stood around for a while, talking about what work each of them had done during the past week. Suddenly, they all headed back toward the house again, without Lenny seeing or hearing anything that beckoned them. He followed them into the basement where tables were set up in a long row, and they took a seat. Older girls brought around bowls with a runny peanut butter and marshmallow mix, and plates of homemade bread. Boys lathered thick helpings of that mix on bread and ate it with a side dish of cottage cheese. They each were given a cup of hot garden tea, to help wash it all down. Lenny couldn’t tell how old any of the individual girls were. Everyone’s clothes were so much alike there wasn’t anything to separate one generation from the other. No one did anything to make oneself stand out; they all seemed content to blend in. He wondered how any boy could find these girls attractive; they seemed so plain and old. He wondered how he could stay all summer with these people in this slow-moving, dark world.

When they finished eating, the boys all headed to the barn, untied their tall dark horses, and led them out to the buggies, everyone leaving