Under the Starlight Sky
Daniel Elijah Sanderfer
Blue Cottage Publishing
Copyright © July 2020 Daniel Elijah Sanderfer
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: Daniel Elijah Sanderfer
Cover photo by: Andi Rieger
Printed in the United States of America
To my dear grandmother, Mae Eva Smith. I love you so much and there's not a day that goes by where I don't think about you and the things you used to say.
"There's no place I'd rather you be, than right here under the Starlight Sky with me."
Daniel Elijah Sanderfer
PROLOGUE
Starlight, the name is befitting of some fairytale place from yesteryear. It sounds like some magical place one would go to escape their life or run away. An earthly paradise secluded from the rest of the world, and yet, I call it home.
Nestled on the back roads of Indiana, about fifteen minutes from the nearest town lies an enchanting little community in the heart of rural America. It’s that distant steel guitar twang in the background of a great country song, it’s the summer peach, so ripe and juicy it makes you want to cry.
But I’m not talking about the town, no. I’m talking about love; sweet and innocent and pure as the summer day is long. I’m talking about the eyes so deep and strong that the stars themselves would pale and fall from the sky in comparison.
I’m talking about a love so powerful that the trees bend and sway before the beauty that is this Southern king. A love so powerful the animals of the sky and tree come down from their homes just to be close to him. I’ll tell you more about him later, in the meantime, I think introductions are in order.
I’m Oliver, but you can call me Ollie and I live in a little town called Navilleton on the outskirts of this enchanted place known as Starlight. The only thing here is a one-hundred-year-old Catholic church called, St. Mary’s and an Amish farm. I wasn’t raised religious, but I do believe there is a higher power out there. Worst case scenario if I’m wrong for believing, I haven’t lost anything.
I live here with my Grandpa Joe in an old farmhouse that lies tucked away from the main road. Times have been tough since my Grandma Effie died. She was the glue that held our little family together. You see, I never knew my mom, she died in a car accident when I was just a baby. My dad was never around; he moved away after mom died and never returned. To this day, I don’t know where he is, but I hope wherever he is, he’s happy.
Sometimes I wonder if he thinks about me or wonders how I turned out. I try not to hold grudges, Grandma always said it wasn’t right. The only person grudges hurt in the end is yourself, but just because I’ve forgiven him for abandoning me doesn’t mean I forgot. I understand that he was young and he didn’t know how to raise a child on his own, that’s why he signed over his rights to Grandma and Grandpa but that still doesn’t excuse the fact he left me…us.
Mom is buried at St. Mary’s and I visit her on holidays and her birthday. Sometimes when I visit, a little blue bird comes and perches on her headstone when I’m talking to her. In my mind, I like to think it’s her watching over me as I get older.
You might think it depressing to go sit at a cemetery and talk to a dead loved one, but I find it comforting. Grandma always said, “All our thoughts and feelings go right to them.” So, that’s why I go…she’s all I have left to talk to anyway.
You see, last year Grandpa had a stroke and lost his ability to talk very well, along with his ability to use the left side of his body properly. Yet somehow he still gets around. When he wants to talk to me, he usually writes what he wants to say on a notepad and I proudly help him with whatever he needs. To be honest, I’m not sure how I’ll make it without him; I need him just as much as he needs me.
When Grandma died we lost a lot of income and now we’re struggling to keep our heads above water. Her social security, being only a meager check from the few years she worked as a CNA was just the boost we needed to stay afloat, but that’s all gone now. So far, we’ve done okay outside of going to bed hungry a few nights; it’s alright, I promise.
That’s why Grandpa and I decided I should get a job. He managed to pull a few strings with old man Hubbard, a friend of his and Grandma Effie’s, and now I’ve got a great new job working at his farm in Starlight. Mr. Hubbard is Amish, but every time he came to visit, as I was growing up, he was just as nice as he could be. He used to bring Grandma boxes of produce that were too old to sell at the farmer’s market.
He’s been coming around even more now that Grandma died to check on Grandpa and me. But Grandpa never has much to say. As out of touch as we are with the outside world, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve grown used to taking care of myself since Grandpa’s stroke. Even though we aren’t living in the lap of luxury, we have what we need and for that, I’m thankful.
Grandma always said, “Give what you can, even if you don’t have it, and someone will give it back to you.” But for all the love I give, by taking care of Grandpa I’m starting to wonder if my payday is ever going to come. It gets mighty lonely here sometimes, especially after I get Grandpa to bed. Sometimes, I go outside and stare up at the night sky to feel close to other people because I know somewhere out there, someone is staring at the sky too.
It’s not as sad as it seems, it’s just the way things are. I’ve come to the conclusion I’ll never be anyone important and that’s okay. Some people are made to be successful and others are made to take care of others. Grandma always said it was God’s way of keeping things in balance and keeping us humble. I’d rather be humble anyway than try to be someone I’m not.
Still, I wish I could take the skills I have and meet someone, maybe I will at the farm? There’s bound to be other people my age, the Amish are known to have large families. Just between you and me, I kind of hope it’s a boy. You see, I’ve just recently turned seventeen and it’s getting harder to ignore the youthful stirrings inside of me; stirrings to explore the nature of what makes us special and different as people.
There used to be a neighbor girl I hung around with for a while. She was always trying to get me to go with her down to the lake at the farm and sit with her, but every time I did, she would always do something that made me uncomfortable.
For instance, one time as the sun was setting we were walking along silently. Occasionally, she would stoop down to feed one of the ducks some stale bread she carried in her pocket. Eventually, we stopped for a moment and gazed out across the water when she began stripping off her top and beckoning me to jump in with her. Honestly, when I saw her standing before me in all her nakedness I was both intrigued and repulsed. Don’t get me wrong, I believe all people are beautiful in their own way, but she had other things on her mind than swimming and I wasn’t going to be the one she experimented with.
I ended up running away when she tried to pull me in and since then she hasn’t spoken to me. When school is in session, she always stares the other direction and tries to pretend like she doesn’t see me, even though I know she does. Several times, I tried to talk to her about it and apologize for rejecting her proposal, but she was having none of it. It doesn’t matter now anyway; we were just fourteen at the time and I think we’ve outgrown whatever friendship existed between us in the first place. We both want different t
hings, ironically, we actually want the same thing she just didn’t know that at the time.
If it had been a boy beckoning me to join him in the water, I would have shed my clothes faster than a hairy dog on a hot day. I don’t like labels, but from what you’ve read already I’ll go ahead and confirm your suspicions, I like boys. I’m as gay and happy as a baby goat prancing through an overgrown meadow…well, maybe not that happy but, I have high hopes that someday I will be. Especially if I manage to meet myself a nice farm boy.
Today is my first day on the job, I know a little bit about farming thanks to Grandma’s small collection of chickens and goats she used to keep around the house, but it’s been a while since I’ve done any kind of farming chores. It’s no matter, I’m sure they will show me anything I need to know.
I don’t think I’ll actually be helping harvest the crops or tending the animals anyway. You see, in the summer the farm opens up to tourists from the city who bring their children and families out to pick their own produce and things. Young men drive tractors with buggies around the property to transport the people from one place to another. From what I understand that’s what I’ll be doing and I must say, I’m super excited about the prospect of driving a tractor around a farm all day.
Well, we’re here! I hope you’ll stay with me for the ride; say a prayer, wish me luck, blow a kiss, because it’s a beautiful day to be alive here under the starlight sky.
UNDER THE STARLIGHT SKY
by
DANIEL ELIJAH SANDERFER
CHAPTER ONE
The little roads weaved and curved around the farm like a corn maze as I stood where Mr. Hubbard told me to meet my trainer. It was a bright, sunshiny July day. I could see a tractor approaching slowly in the distance. I couldn’t make out who was driving it until they got closer.
He was dressed in traditional Amish attire, handmade slacks, a white button-up shirt, and suspenders. He had a straw hat on his head and as he turned his gaze to the road ahead, I could see a mess of haystack yellow hair sticking out from under it. He flashed me a smile and tossed up a hand to wave.
You know that moment where you see the person you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with? I was almost certain it was him. He looked like an Amish God sitting high up on his Massey Ferguson. His voice was deep and drenched with a Pennsylvania Dutch accent, “Are you, Oliver?”
I was gobsmacked as he extended his hand to me. I nodded in silence, prompting him to chuckle softly, “There’s nothing to be afeared of, I’m Jacobi.”
I cleared my throat and replied hoarsely, “Nice to meet you.”
He smiled again, “Hop aboard, we’re burning daylight and I have a lot to learn you.”
I smirked at his improper English and climbed up behind him. As I positioned my feet on the wheel axles behind his seat, he grabbed my hand and placed it on his shoulder, “Hang on tight, Ollie!”
He shifted into gear and made his way toward a large red barn with passenger buggies inside. “What are those?” I shouted as I pointed their direction.
“Those are for the customers who come to visit. Our first job for today is to connect the buggies to the tractor. You’ll ride with me today, then tomorrow you’ll get your own tractor to drive.”
I was too excited for words as he positioned the back of the tractor in perfect alignment with the train of passenger cars. He turned off the engine, then we hopped down. As I started to, he stretched up his hand to help me and I blushed.
His smile was full of light, love, and innocence and woe to anyone who ever dampened that smile. I’d already convinced myself that he was actually an angel in disguise. The whole drive over to the barn he hummed little hymns like This Little Light of Mine, and Jesus Loves the Little Children. If there was a God in the heavens, he was the epitome of everything pure and perfect; a masterpiece of human beauty and I would have sold my soul to know him carnally.
Until this moment, I wasn’t sure if there were a heaven and hell. If there was a devil or a God, but if there was, the devil inside of me wanted to play connect the freckles with the ones accenting his porcelain skin. He bent over to hitch the buggies to the tractor and I took a moment to get lost and admire the appealing curve of his butt.
I’d sell everything I own for just thirty seconds of caressing it. He glanced around his body and smirked, “What’re you doing?”
I shrugged in confusion and prayed he hadn’t seen my eyes pasted to him. “Well don’t just stand there, come on over so I can show you how to do this,” he chuckled.
“Okay,” I sighed.
I hunched over and stared pensively at his hands as he tightened the buggies down onto the makeshift tow hitch. He had finished faster than I could understand what he’d done, then he glanced up. His face was only inches from mine…so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath. “Did you see?” he mumbled.
“Huh?” I sighed.
He shook his head with a smile, “You must pay attention or we’ll never get anything done today.”
I quickly shook my head to snap myself out of the spell he was casting on me. Then, to my surprise, he took my hand and pulled me along behind him. “It’s our responsibility to check the wagons every morning to make sure no critter has fallen asleep in them. Can you imagine the shock of sitting down only to find a skunk or possum curled up at your feet?”
“That’d be pretty frightening,” I replied with a slightly amused inflection.
He laughed, “Pretty? There’d be nothing pretty about it!”
He made a funny face to mimic shock and fear that prompted me to laugh. Then he tickled me which made me laugh harder. For a moment, everything stopped and all was silent but our breathing. His lips formed a smile as my eyes started to close.
I was all too aware of his hand resting on my abs as he stared at me with hooded eyes. Then as fast as a pop-up rain shower, he shook his head and nervously cleared his throat. “We should probably get the tractor to the market. The first group of passengers will be waiting for us.”
I nodded silently, but something had happened between us. It was like we were two lost souls that had been searching for each other for an infinite amount of time, and in a brief, fleeting, moment we recognized one another. I’ve always believed there is someone out there for everyone and until we find that special person we were meant to be with, our souls continue searching. Then one day, out of the blue it all just clicks. We see them and our hearts say, “That’s it, you’re the one I’ve been waiting on! You’re the last piece of the puzzle, the other half of my soul, the song my heart beats to.”
Jacobi continued with the day as if the moment we’d experienced together earlier didn’t happen. I played it safe and followed his lead. By the time lunchtime had arrived, it was just past noon. We’d helped the last group of passengers off the cars to go pay for their goods.
July is peach season at the farm and as he drove through the orchard, he would occasionally reach up and grab one from a low hanging branch. He’d hand one to me, then grab one for himself, dust it off on his pants leg, and take a bite. I couldn’t help but wish I could kiss the sweet nectar that lingered on his lips before he wiped it off on his shirt sleeve.
His lips were pouty and beautiful; tinged with just a hint of red that made them look like they were covered in pink lipstick. Oh, to taste them would have been a dream come true. What a wicked game, the way the heart plays with wanton emotions of an adolescent boy. What a cruel fate that the world can’t be such an open place where a boy can tell another boy he’s beautiful without repercussion or shame.
When it was time for lunch, he and I walked through the open field toward his home. It was a large two-story farmhouse, that appeared to be built by hand. The large old-fashioned windows were accented by shutters that could actually be opened and closed. A grand covered porch extended the full length of the front while sprays of marigolds and black-eyed suzie's lined the walkway like a welcome procession.
A young Amish woman w
ho looked like him was sweeping off the front porch as we arrived. Little clouds of dust and gentle creaks of the wood echoed as she shifted her weight. She paused momentarily and greeted us with a smile. Her voice was tinged with the same Pennsylvania Dutch accent as his, “Jacobi, who is your friend.”
“This is Oliver, Mother,” he said as he gestured to me.
She bowed respectfully, “Hello Oliver, how are you liking your first day on the farm?”
“I love it very much, ma’am.”
She smiled, “I’m sure you two are hungry after working all morning. Come on in and I will fix you something for lunch.”
Jacobi smiled, “We did eat a few peaches while transporting passengers.”
She shook her head, “Ah, that’s alright my love. It’s hard to resist when you see them so frequently throughout the day. Even a man as pure in heart as you can only resist the temptation for so long before you simply must taste the fruit of God’s labor.”
He glanced at me and bit his bottom lip. I knew she was only talking about peaches, but the fruit I’d found so tempting since we met this morning would be much harder to obtain. Something inside of me hoped that maybe in time, I’d taste the forbidden fruit that was him. I only hoped that when that moment came it wouldn’t be bittersweet. Because now, even though we had only just met this morning, I couldn’t picture life without him at least as a friend.
We shifted from the porch to inside the large house. The shiplap walls and hardwood floors were breathtaking. Everywhere you looked were details of fine country life, from the lace doilies that accented the handmade furniture, to the precise position of the pillows on the davenport. A faint hint of beeswax mingled with fresh-baked peach pie hovered in the air like a cloud. His mother followed as Jacobi led the way to the downstairs bath, “Cleanliness is next to godliness,” he said cheerfully.
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