Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
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from a chair close to his bed and the voice was distinct now, saying, "Well, he's with us
finally." A lamp went on, its light like white fire on his eyeballs and Michael turned his
head. It felt very heavy, numb. And then he could see the face over his bed was that of
Dr. Taza.
"Let me look at you a minute and I'll put the light out," Dr. Taza said gently. He was
busy shining a small pencil flashlight (ручной фонарик) into Michael's eyes. "You'll be
all right," Dr. Taza said and turned to someone else in the room. "You can speak to
him."
It was Don Tommasino sitting on a chair near his bed, Michael could see him clearly
now. Don Tommasino was saying, "Michael, Michael, can I talk to you? Do you want to
rest?"
It was easier to raise a hand to make a gesture and Michael did so and Don
Tommasino said, "Did Fabrizzio bring the car from the garage?"
Michael, without knowing he did so, smiled. It was in some strange way, a chilling smile,
of assent (согласие;
vanished. Listen to me, Michael. You've been unconscious for nearly a week. Do you
understand? Everybody thinks you're dead, so you're safe now, they've stopped looking
for you. I've sent messages to your father and he's sent back instructions. It won't be
long now, you'll be back in America. Meanwhile you'll rest here quietly. You're safe up in
the mountains, in a special farmhouse I own. The Palermo people have made their
peace with me now that you're supposed to be dead, so it was you they were after all
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the time. They wanted to kill you while making people think it was me they were after.
That's something you should know. As for everything else, leave it all to me. You
recover your strength and be tranquil (спокойный [‘trжkwil])."
Michael was remembering everything now. He knew his wife was dead, that Calo was
dead. He thought of the old woman in the kitchen. He couldn't remember if she had
come outside with him. He whispered, "Filomena?" Don Tommasino said quietly, "She
wasn't hurt, just a bloody nose from the blast. Don't worry about her."
Michael said, "Fabrizzio. Let your shepherds know that the one who gives me
Fabrizzio will own the finest pastures in Sicily."
Both men seemed to sigh with relief. Don Tommasino lifted a glass from a nearby
table and drank from it an amber fluid (янтарная жидкость ['flu:id]) that jolted (to jolt –
подбрасывать) his head up. Dr. Taza sat on the bed and said almost absently, "You
know, you're a widower. That's rare in Sicily." As if the distinction might comfort him.
Michael motioned to Don Tommasino to lean closer. The Don sat on the bed and bent
his head. "Tell my father to get me home," Michael said. "Tell my father I wish to be his
son."
But it was to be another month before Michael recovered from his injuries and another
two months after that before all the necessary papers and arrangements were ready.
Then he was flown from Palermo to Rome and from Rome to New York. In all that time
no trace had been found of Fabrizzio.
Book 7
Chapter 25
When Kay Adams received her college degree, she took a job teaching grade school
in her New Hampshire hometown. The first six months after Michael vanished she made
weekly telephone calls to his mother asking about him. Mrs. Corleone was always
friendly and always wound up saying, "You a very very nice girl. You forget about Mikey
and find a nice husband." Kay was not offended at her bluntness and understood that
the mother spoke out of concern for her as a young girl in an impossible situation.
When her first school term ended, she decided to go to New York to buy some decent
clothes and see some old college girl friends. She thought also about looking for some
sort of interesting job in New York. She had lived like a spinster for almost two years,
reading and teaching, refusing dates, refusing to go out at all, even though she had
given up making calls to Long Beach. She knew she couldn't keep that up, she was
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becoming irritable and unhappy. But she had always believed Michael would write her
or send her a message of some sort. That he had not done so humiliated her, it
saddened her that he was so distrustful even of her.
She took an early train and was checked into her hotel by midafternoon. Her girl
friends worked and she didn't want to bother them at their jobs, she planned to call them
at night. And she didn't really feel like going shopping after the exhausting train trip.
Being alone in the hotel room, remembering all the times she and Michael had used
hotel rooms to make love, gave her a feeling of desolation. It was that more than
anything else that gave her the idea of calling Michael's mother out in Long Beach.
The phone was answered by a rough masculine voice with a typical, to her, New York
accent. Kay asked to speak to Mrs. Corelone. There was a few minutes' silence and
then Kay heard the heavily accented voice asking who it was.