Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

“So it’ll be five thousand American dollars, right? I’ll go to the post office and transfer it all to your mother. I can’t deal with international payments well. Their bank accounts don’t even have the right number of digits,” she stated before laughing in the sweetest way possible. “Oh, don’t worry. You know I want for nothing. I could never spend everything I have, and I can’t let my only grandchild feel like a pauper.”

There was nothing odd about a grandmother offering money to the apple of her eye, but how in seven hells did a pastor’s housekeeper in Dybukowo, a place that didn’t get cell phone reception, have five thousand USD to spare?

It was none of his business… but how?

Adam waited through the rest of the conversation, but once Mrs. Janina returned to her tasks, he was glad to shake off the icy dust his body had collected and made some noise before entering the kitchen.

The housekeeper glanced up from the sink. She looked much more put-together in an apron and with her hair pulled back by a blue scarf, which rested on a bun at the back of her head, keeping it out of sight. In daylight, her wrinkled skin seemed delicate, almost translucent, but the set of her lips was as firm as it had been when Adam had last seen her.

“Is it customary for people in Warsaw to sleep until so late?” she asked, drying her hands on a towel. “I serve breakfast at 7.30 sharp.”

“Is that my new protégé?” came a low yet friendly sounding voice from a door on the other side of the old-fashioned yet tidy kitchen.

Mrs. Janina took a deep breath and met Adam’s gaze. “The pastor’s awake now. You may join him,” she said in a way that suggested she was the one calling the shots at the parsonage. But who was Adam to change the status quo, if he was staying for only six months?

He cleared his throat and entered a dining room decorated in a style reminiscent of his grandparents’ home in the countryside. Simple, with whitened walls, a thin carpet in the middle of a wooden floor and a cheap metal chandelier as the centerpiece. A framed tapestry of the crucifixion hung across the room from a window with sheer curtains, but he spotted plenty of other framed images. Not all were religious in nature, and Adam noticed that group photos from various events were a prominent presence on one of the walls. He didn’t get to look at details when his gaze focused on the pastor smiling at him from behind a large oak table in the middle.

“Adam Kwiatkowski, right?” he asked, awkwardly pushing the chair away from the table before rising to his feet.

Whatever worries Adam might have harbored, died the moment Father Marek squeezed his hand. The man was the embodiment of a spoiled yet kind village priest, with a round face that might have had more wrinkles if he were slimmer, and a large pot belly pushing at the front of his cassock. But, most importantly of all, he seemed glad to have company. No wonder, if he shared the house with a tyrant like Mrs. Janina.

“I am so sorry about this mix up—”

The pastor waved his hand. “You shouldn’t be. I checked the letter, and turns out I was the one to make a mistake. I hope you got here without too much trouble?”

Adam’s shoulders relaxed, and he presented the chocolates to Father Marek. “This was really the only thing that suffered throughout my journey. It was meant as a gift for you, so I hope that they at least still taste good,” he said, glad to see the pastor’s smile widen.

“It’s the thought that counts, but I won’t lie. When it comes to dessert, I am a bit of a connoisseur. And you will be too, once you taste Mrs. Janina’s famous home baking.”

“You won’t get into my good graces with exaggerated compliments, Father,” she said, entering the kitchen with a tray containing two 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.