steaming cups of tea and large tomatoes cut into slices and dusted with salt and pepper. It was yet another addition to the wealth of foods already on the table, but Adam wasn’t one to complain about being overly indulged on his first day in the new parish.
The selection on offer was mind-boggling. Soft boiled eggs were laid out inside a bowl disguised as a meticulously crafted wicker hen. Three types of bread and buns tempted Adam with their crispy exteriors, while cheese and ham whispered for him to try every kind on offer. Lettuce, radishes, cucumbers and spring onion were all cut up and added color to the table, while honey and jam promised the perfect end to the meal.
Maybe staying here for half a year wouldn’t be so bad after all? He could definitely see how Father Marek got his round belly, but Adam would be fine if he stuck to his running regime and sampled everything in moderation. And if he gained a few pounds? What the hell, he only lived once.
“How are you enjoying our village so far? I’m sure you’ll find the peace and quiet restful after living in the big city,” the pastor said.
Adam smiled, politely pacing himself with the food, even though he knew he’d eat a great many tiny portions before leaving the table. “I wanted to send a message to my parents, but my cell phone doesn’t pick up the signal.”
“Yes. We’re in a valley. There’s reception on top of the church tower.” Father Marek had some tea and pulled one of the squashed chocolates out of the cardboard box before placing it on his tongue.
“And what’s your Wi-Fi password?” Adam asked, preparing a huge open-faced sandwich on sourdough bread.
The pastor frowned, watching Adam as if he’d grown a second head.
Mrs. Janina sighed. “Vi-fi, Pastor. Internet without cables. My son has it in his home.”
“Yes, but that’s all the way in Sanok. I suppose we could access the Internet through the landline, but there was never any need for it.”
Adam blinked a few times, too focused on keeping his expression neutral to say anything.
Mrs. Janina nodded, and joined them at the table, though she didn’t bring a plate for herself. “So many bad things on the Internet…”
Adam was eager to change the topic before it escalated. “Speaking of bad things, someone hung a dead magpie by my window.”
Mrs. Janina scowled at the pastor. “Father! There is no need for that!”
Adam stared at the pastor, his mouth full of the delicious sandwich. “What?”
Father Marek gave a rumbly laugh that brought him to the verge of choking. “Sorry, Adam. Couldn’t help myself.”
“But… why?”
“Relax. It’s taxidermy. A harmless joke.”
“Laughing at people’s traditions is hardly funny,” Mrs. Janina said sternly, leaning back in her chair.
The pastor scratched his head through the thinning gray hair. “The people of Dybukowo are good Christians, but they’re superstitious. Some still try to ward off evil spirits from cradles, leave out food for their ancestors, and those magpies seem like the must have folklore-themed decoration nowadays. In the olden days, people used them to ward off the Chort.” When Adam just stared at him, the pastor explained, “the devil.”
Mrs. Janina remained suspiciously silent, and as the clock on the wall counted a couple more seconds, the pastor rose and clapped his hands. “Right. I need to prepare today’s sermon. We’ll talk more during lunch, Adam.”
“Looking forward to it, Father.”
Once they were alone, Adam feared Mrs. Janina’s silence would extend, but she spoke as soon as the pastor left.
“What Father Marek doesn’t understand is that Chort won’t harm those who live with him on good terms.”
Adam frowned. Was she talking about… devil worship? Hardly something he’d expect from an elderly woman who worked at the parsonage. “As in…?”
“Oh, you know, leave offerings, don’t scare him off with the magpies, and he won’t be a bother.”
Adam put his sandwich down and swallowed some tea, because the bread felt weirdly coarse in his throat all of a sudden. “Why would anyone try to appease the devil? That’s God’s work.”
Her pale, lively eyes darted to meet his. “Chort is not Satan.”
Adam decided to leave it at that and continued his breakfast while Mrs. Janina opened a book about a Catholic mission in Tanzania. At least she was no longer watching him like a hawk, but Adam’s thoughts drifted to way less pleasant things. The fresh orange juice couldn’t wash away the memory of that last dinner at his parents’ apartment. He still had to