Adam’s cassock had never felt as hot as it did when they faced one another among people who might spot the flush creeping up Adam’s nape or the dark shade of Emil’s gaze. “I didn’t forget your birthday either,” he said, even though he had nothing to give. He had to buy himself time. “I’ll give it to you later. I don’t want people talking.”
“Adam…” Emil smiled. “No need, but thank you. Can’t wait for it, you tease.”
Adam’s nape burned as if the flames dancing in the middle of the clearing were only inches away. The double meaning of Emil’s words was obvious. “The shepherd can’t single out one sheep from his flock. Especially if it’s the black one.”
“And yet he does.” Emil started walking toward the fire backwards, and this time, Adam was sure he winked. At him.
Adam’s heart galloped, and he was painfully close to following Emil, as if they were tied together with an invisible thread. But he stayed in place, safe in the cassock that would be his armor for the night.
Girls, who’d been dancing in a circle around the fire, retreated, and as soon as Emil joined the crowd consisting mostly of young men, Radek sped through the empty space and leapt over the dancing flames with the grace of a young fox.
He was the embodiment of everything Adam wasn’t. Wild, free, taking a risk where Adam stood back and watched from the sidelines. A few more men followed his example to great applause, and when it was Emil’s turn, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He pulled off the white tunic and all but flew above the dancing flames, which could’ve burned him alive if he’d made a misstep.
He didn’t care. As soon as he was on the other side, Radek passed him a cup undoubtedly filled with mead, and they both laughed, pointing to the next man in line.
Adam stood outside the invisible wall that separated him from what he most craved, yet could never have unless he smashed the glass to pieces and cut himself in the process.
A warm hand tapped his shoulder, and for the briefest moment he feared to hear the hoof beats again, but it was Koterski.
“You’re not joining the fun, Father?” the forest ranger asked, pulling closer a young woman with a wreath of wild flowers in her hair.
Adam laughed and gestured at the long folds of his cassock, but the woman chuckled and put her arm around the ranger. “I’m wearing a long skirt too, and we’re still going to jump. You’re making excuses, Father.”
“Maybe Father Adam doesn’t care about earning some luck for the approaching year. God’s watching over him anyway.”
“Maybe next year,” Adam said, cringing when a couple jumped over the flames, which bloomed high enough to lick their bare feet, about to grab them by the ankles and pull their bodies into the flames for roasting. Only that next year, he’d no longer be here.
“And now, it’s time for the single ladies!” Mr. Nowak shouted with glee.
Adam caught a glimpse of Mrs. Janina and Mrs. Golonko arguing about something by a car. Mrs. Golonko’s daughter, Jessika, rolled her eyes and threw away the wreath she’d been holding. It was such a unique crown too, made out of orchids and other exotic plants instead of the offerings from local meadows.
Mrs. Golonko got into her fancy SUV and drove off so fast the tires threw mud as soon as her daughter slammed the door behind her too. Adam made a note of it, because he thought the two women were friends. Oh well, maybe Mrs. Golonko had insulted Mrs. Janina’s cake. Adam would never make that mistake.
Not that Mrs. Janina’s food deserved insults.
Young women left the fire behind and descended on the lakeshore like a herd of frolicking does. They marked their flower crowns with colorful ribbons, and single men hurried along the shore, to where they would catch the wreaths carried by the gentle stream passing through the lake. A man who caught a particular girl’s wreath was owed a kiss, though Adam had already heard that many of the ‘singles’ were actually couples, or had flirted before. Catching the wreath would be just an excuse to make out in public. Or cause massive scenes if the man got his hands on the wrong flower crown.
Mrs. Janina walked past him with a cup of juice. “Last year there was a terrible fight over one of them. A man almost drowned.”
But Adam’s thoughts went somewhere else when he saw Radek and Emil laughing like two madmen. Emil was holding Jessika’s wreath and, goaded by Radek, he sneakily made his way behind the group of women.
Adam stiffened. Emil was playing a dangerous game, considering the prize all the men were expecting. In the best case scenario, he’d cause even more rumors, and in the worst—Adam might have to diffuse a fight. But he stood still, watching the wreath with pink and violet flowers with a sense of longing. If they were alone here and Adam picked the crown out of the water, would Emil insist on honoring tradition?
Mrs. Janina gasped when she too spotted Emil pushing his wreath onto the water along with the others. “The audacity. No respect for tradition. That man is always up to mischief. He is thirty today, he should know better by now!”
But Adam said nothing, his gaze pinned to the one wreath that he wanted to see floating, as drowning was a bad omen, and Emil had suffered enough misfortune for a lifetime.
The women left the water while the nearby stream pushed their offerings across the small lake, toward a group of shadows skirting the edge of the forest. The huge fire added a sheen to the ripples on the peaceful surface and transformed the folklore tradition into something greater, a declaration that the people of Dybukowo still held on to their ancient roots, not ready to forget their ancestors in the name of modernity. It was actually quite touching.
An insistent cawing made Adam flinch, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Emil’s wreath. A swarm of crows took a nosedive above the water and descended on the flowers. Adam held his breath in disbelief. A whole murder of crows picked at the wreath, fighting over it in a cloud of cawing and feathers, until one of the biggest birds, with wings like steaks, ripped it from another’s claws and darted off into the night.
Mrs. Janina shook her head. “Serves him right. What possessed him to take on a female role in the celebrations? I’m telling you, Father, there’s something very wrong with that young man.”
Emil stood at the shore with his shoulders hunched as the birds disappeared carrying the flower crown he’d poached. Adam felt rather than heard the comments exchanged in voices more hushed than Mrs. Janina’s, but when Nowak cleared his throat and said that Emil might attract crows the same way poor old Zofia had, Adam was done with the conversation.
He walked away from his place close to the pastor and passed the burning fire as the breeze blew gently from behind his back and pushed him toward the shimmering water.
“Hey,” he said, joining Emil, who stared at the remaining wreaths as they glided languidly toward the men along the invisible stream.
People by the bonfire were already dancing to the sound of drums and flutes, but their joy didn’t reach Emil.
Radek appeared out of nowhere and patted Emil’s back. “I won’t be going into the forest. See you at the party? You’ll meet my friends.”
He ran off to the group of city people in hip clothes Adam had noticed earlier.
“He invited some people from Cracow. They’re loving it here,” Emil said to Adam, but wouldn’t look at him, gaze still stuck on the water.