Chapter 29

           MichaelCorleonehadtakenprecautionsagainsteveryeventuality.Hisplanningwasfaultless,hissecurityimpeccable.Hewaspatient,hopingtousethefullyeartoprepare.Buthewasnottogethisnecessaryyearbecausefateitselftookastandagainsthim,andinthemostsurprisingfashion.ForitwastheGodfather,thegreatDonhimself,whofailedMichaelCorleone.

           OnonesunnySundaymorning,whilethewomenwereatchurch,DonVitoCorleonedressedinhisgardeninguniform:baggygraytrousers,afadedblueshirt,battereddirty-brownfedoradecoratedbyastainedgraysilkhatband.TheDonhadgainedconsiderableweightinhisfewyearsandworkedonhistomatovines,hesaid,forthesakeofhishealth.Buthedeceivednoone.

           Thetruthwas,helovedtendinghisgarden;helovedthesightofitearlyonamorning.ItbroughtbackhischildhoodinSicilysixtyyearsago,broughtitbackwithouttheterror,thesorrowofhisownfather’sdeath.Nowthebeansintheirrowsgrewlittlewhiteflowersontop;stronggreenstalksofscallionfencedeverythingin.Atthefootofthegardenaspoutedbarrelstoodguard.Itwasfilledwithliquidycowmanure,thefinestgardenfertilizer.Alsointhatlowerpartofthegardenwerethesquarewoodenframeshehadbuiltwithhisownhands,thestickscross-tiedwiththickwhitestring.Overtheseframescrawledthetomatovines.

           TheDonhastenedtowaterhisgarden.Itmustbedonebeforethesunwaxedtoohotandturnedthewaterintoaprismoffirethatcouldburnhislettuceleaveslikepaper.