Крестный отец

Chapter 18

           Overhiscoffeehethoughtabouthispoordaughter.Shewouldneverbethesame.Heroutwardbeautyhadbeenrestoredbuttherewasthelookofafrightenedanimalinhereyesthathadmadehimunabletobearthesightofher.AndsotheyhadsenthertoliveinBostonforatime.Timewouldhealherwounds.Painandterrorwasnotsofinalasdeath,ashewellknew.Hisworkmadehimanoptimist.

           Hehadjustfinishedthecoffeewhenhisphoneinthelivingroomrang.Hiswifeneveranswereditwhenhewashome,sohegotupanddrainedhiscupandstubbedouthiscigarette.Ashewalkedtothephonehepulledoffhistieandstartedtounbuttonhisshirt,gettingreadyforhislittlenap.Thenhepickedupthephoneandsaidwithquietcourtesy,"Hello."

           Thevoiceontheotherendwasharsh,strained."ThisisTomHagen,"itsaid."I’mcallingforDonCorleone,athisrequest."

           AmerigoBonaserafeltthecoffeechurningsourlyinhisstomach,felthimselfgoingalittlesick.ItwasmorethanayearsincehehadputhimselfinthedebtoftheDontoavengehisdaughter’shonorandinthattimetheknowledgethathemustpaythatdebthadreceded.HehadbeensogratefulseeingthebloodyfacesofthosetworuffiansthathewouldhavedoneanythingfortheDon.Buttimeerodesgratitudemorequicklythanitdoesbeauty.NowBonaserafeltthesicknessofamanfacedwithdisaster.Hisvoicefalteredasheanswered,"Yes,Iunderstand.I’mlistening."

           HewassurprisedatthecoldnessinHagen’svoice.

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