Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

killed his sister's husband.

She had left him because of that lie, not because of the deed. The next morning she

had taken the children away with her to her parents' house in New Hampshire. Without

a word to anyone, without really knowing what action she meant to take. Michael had

immediately understood. He had called her the first day and then left her alone. It was a

week before the limousine from New York pulled up in front of her house with Tom

Hagen.

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247

She had spent a long terrible afternoon with Tom Hagen, the most terrible afternoon

of her life. They had gone for a walk in the woods outside her little town and Hagen had

not been gentle.

Kay had made the mistake of trying to be cruelly flippant, a role to which she was not

suited. "Did Mike send you up here to threaten me?" she asked. "I expected to see

some of the 'boys' get out of the car with their machine guns to make me go back."

For the first time since she had known him, she saw Hagen angry. He said harshly,

"That's the worst kind of juvenile crap I've ever heard. I never expected that from a

woman like you. Come on, Kay."

"All right," she said.

They walked along the green country road. Hagen asked quietly, "Why did you run

away?"

Kay said, "Because Michael lied to me. Because he made a fool of me when he stood

Godfather to Connie's boy. He betrayed me. I can't love a man like that. I can't live with

it. I can't let him be father to my children."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hagen said.

She turned on him with now-justified rage. "I mean that he killed his sister's husband.

Do you understand that?" She paused for a moment. "And he lied to me."

They walked on for a long time in silence. Finally Hagen said, "You have no way of

really knowing that's all true. But just for the sake of argument let's assume that it's true.

I'm not saying it is, remember. But what if I gave you what might be some justification

for what he did. Or rather some possible justifications?"

Kay looked at him scornfully. "That's the first time I've seen the lawyer side of you,

Tom. It's not your best side."

Hagen grinned. "OK. Just hear me out. What if Carlo had put Sonny on the spot,

fingered him. What if Carlo beating up Connie that time was a deliberate plot to get

Sonny out in the open, that they knew he would take the route over the Jones Beach

Causeway? What if Carlo had been paid to help get Sonny killed? Then what?"

Kay didn't answer. Hagen went on. "And what if the Don, a great man, couldn't bring

himself to do what he had to do, avenge his son's death by killing his daughter's

husband? What if that, finally, was too much for him, and he made Michael his

successor, knowing that Michael would take that load off his shoulders, would take that

guilt?"

"It was all over with," Kay said, tears springing into her eyes. "Everybody was happy.

Why couldn't Carlo be forgiven? Why couldn't everything go on and everybody forget?"

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248

She had led across a meadow to a tree-shaded brook. Hagen sank down on the grass

and sighed. He looked around, sighed again and said, "In this world you could do it."

Kay said, "He's not the man I married."

Hagen laughed shortly. "If he were, he'd be dead now. You'd be a widow now. You'd

have no problem."

Kay blazed out at him. "What the hell does that mean? Come on, Tom, speak out

straight once in your life. I know Michael can't, but you're not Sicilian, you can tell a

woman the truth, you can treat her like an equal, a fellow human being."

There was another long silence. Hagen shook his head. "You've got Mike wrong.

You're mad because he lied to you. Well, he warned you never to ask him about

business. You're mad because he was Godfather to Carlo's boy. But you made him do

that. Actually it was the right move for him to make if he was going to take action

against Carlo. The classical tactical move to win the victim's trust." Hagen gave her a

grim smile. "Is that straight enough talk for you?" But Kay bowed her head.

Hagen went on. "I'll give you some more straight talk. After the Don died, Mike was

set up to be killed. Do you know who set him up? Tessio. So Tessio had to be killed.

Carlo had to be killed. Because treachery can't be forgiven. Michael could have forgiven

it, but people never forgive themselves and so they would always be dangerous.

Michael really liked Tessio. He loves his sister. But he would be shirking his duty to you

and his children, to his whole family, to me and my family, if he let Tessio and Carlo go

free. They would have been a danger to us all, all our lives."

Kay had been listening to this with tears running down her face. "Is that what Michael

sent you up here to tell me?"

Hagen looked at her in genuine surprise. "No," he said.

"He told me to tell you you could have everything you want and do everything you

want as long as you take good care of the kids." Hagen smiled. "He said to tell you that

you're his Don. That's just a joke."

Kay put her hand on Hagen's arm. "He didn't order you to tell me all the other things?"

Hagen hesitated a moment as if debating whether to tell her a final truth. "You still

don't understand," he said. "If you told Michael what I've told you today, I'm a dead

man." He paused again. "You and the children are the only people on this earth he

couldn't harm."

It was a long five minutes after that Kay rose from the grass and they started walking

back to the house. When they were almost there, Kay said to Hagen, "After supper, can

you drive me and the kids to New York in your car?"

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"That's what I came for," Hagen said.

249

A week after she returned to Michael she went to a priest for instruction to become a

Catholic.

From the innermost recess of the church the bell tolled for repentance. As she had

been taught to do, Kay struck her breast lightly with her clenched hand, the stroke of

repentance. The bell tolled again and there was the shuffling of feet as the

communicants left their seats to go to the altar rail. Kay rose to join them. She knelt at

the altar and from the depths of the church the bell tolled again. With her closed hand

she struck her heart once more. The priest was before her. She tilted back her head

and opened her mouth to receive the papery thin wafer. This was the most terrible

moment of all. Until it melted away and she could swallow and she could do what she

came to do.

Washed clean of sin, a favored supplicant, she bowed her head and folded her hands

over the altar rail. She shifted her body to make her weight less punishing to her knees.

She emptied her mind of all thought of herself, of her children, of all anger, of all

rebellion, of all questions. Then with a profound and deeply willed desire to believe, to

be heard, as she had done every day since the murder of Carlo Rizzi, she said the

necessary prayers for the soul of Michael Corleone.

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