Per Fare Una Pace Fragile (To Make a Fragile Peace

Sonny entered the room. "What is this? You're teaching my brother to cook? Why don't you give him an apron?" Michael turned away, wiping his hands on a towel, his expression blank. "Hey, Clemenza, how's Paulie?"

"I think tomorrow he's gonna take a turn for the worse."

"Gee, that's too bad." Michael had started to leave the room, but Sonny put an arm across the door, blocking him. "Where you going?"

"I'm just gonna go back to the city for a little while."

"You just got here." There was reproach in his voice. "We haven't had time to talk."

"There'll be plenty of time. I want to see Kay--she's worried about me. And I want to see Pop."

Sonny slowly lowered his arm. "Okay. Take a couple of the guys with you."

Michael shook his head. "I'll be all right."

"I wanna send some bodyguards with you."

"Sonny, I'm just gonna have dinner with Kay and check in on Pop."

Sonny looked past Michael to Clemenza. "Just, he says, with Sollazzo's goons all over the place."

Clemenza shrugged. "Sollazzo knows he's a civilian. He should be fine. That's one thing I don't think he'd dare do--drag the civilian members of the family in on this."

Sonny studied Michael, seeing an unfamiliar resolve in his little bro's 's eyes. He slowly lowered his arm. "All right. You just be careful."

As he passed, Michael muttered, "Yes, sir."

Sonny almost twitched, but since his marriage he'd tried to learn to control the signs of his arousal around his family. He looked at the men playing poker and sauietuietly, "Two of you go with him, anyway. Just don't get in his face, all right? He'll understand." Two of the men threw down their cards and grabbed their jackets as they went out. The other two players immediately looked at the hands the others had been holding, and started to swear in Sicilian.

Clemenza was easing spaghetti into a pot, curling the long, golden strands down as they softened in the boiling water. "Sonny, it's good you worry about your little brother, but Michael is a man now. You can't keep him tucked under your wing forever. He went through the war, f'Christ's sake."

Sonny stared at the door Michael had disappeared through. He found a solitary slice of mushroom that had somehow escaped the sauce and picked it up, turning it over in his fingers thoughtfully. "Ya Know, old man, sometimes the biggest hurts come from where you're loved the most." Clemenza looked at Santino consideringly as the younger man popped the mushroom into his mouth.

~~~~~

Michael knew he was being followed. Hell, they didn't even wait for him to turn the first corner before following him. Michael was tempted to try to lose them, but he didn't have a lot of skills at driving, and his irritation was not enough to risk an accident or a run in with the police. Instead he simply made his way back into the city and went directly to Kay's room.

The men followed him. When they stepped into the elevator with him, Michael asked, "What floor?" They just looked at him. He sighed and pushed the right floor, and they rode up in silence. At least they had the tact to hang back by the elevator when he went to Kay's door.

She answered it at his first knock. Her face lit up, and she threw her arms around him, kissing him. After a moment, Michael put his arms around her for a brief hug, then set her back. "What are you doing, just opening the door like that? Christ, Kay, don't you have any sense? Even if you weren't going with me, don't you understand how dangerous that is?"

Some of the brightness went out of her expression. "I'm sorry, Mike. I was just hoping so bad that it would be you that I didn't think."

"You HAVE to think, Kay." At her crestfallen look he sighed, and gave her a brief kiss. "C'mon, I'll take you to dinner."

"I'll get my coat."

"Don't bother--we'll eat in the hotel dining room." He inclined his head toward the elevator, and Kay peered down the hall. When she saw the two men waiting, she looked back at Michael. He shrugged tiredly.

"That's fine. They have good spaghetti here."

Michael put his hand on the small of her back as he escorted her down the hall. "I don't want spaghetti, Kay. I get all the spaghetti I need at home."

They stepped into the elevator. Michael stared straight ahead and said, "Lobby." The two men exchanged amused looks, then the one before the panel pushed the right button.

As they rode down, Kay peered at them curiously. "Hello."

Again the men exchanged looks, then said, in not quite perfect harmony, "Hiya."

"Kay," Micheal said, shaking his head.

"But I only..."

"Kay, please."

"All right, Michael."

The dining room was almost full, and the maitre d' led them directly to a nice table near the front. When he tried to seat the two bodyguards on the other side of the room he was quietly informed that wouldn't do. Michael and Kay had been seated in the midst of several other occupied tables, and they couldn't sit as close as they would have liked. Michael knew that if they had been in a smaller restaurant they would have urged some of the other diners to relocate.

They ordered, the food came, they ate. Kay, who had impeccable manners, nearly dropped a forkful of food on her dress twice, because she was busy staring at their watchers. Finally Michael said, "Kay, will you stop looking at them? Just ignore them."

"But Michael, doesn't it bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me, but I've learned to live with it."

"How?\ "I "I have no choice. Just ignore them."

The waiter cleared the plates, and Michael said, "Would you send the dessert cart, please?"

As he left Kay said, "You never eat dessert, Michael."

"People can have a change now and then." The cart came by and Michael chose a portion of tirramissu, and Kay chose apple pie, with cheese. As the waiter rolled the cart away Michael pulled a handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket and wiped his forehead, then laid the kerchief on the table. He said conversationally, "Don't show any reaction, Kay. Pretend that I'm talking about the weather or something. I'm going to go to the restroom, and I'm going to slip out and duck those two."

Kay didn't look toward the men. "Won't they follow you?"

"One of them might. If he does, stop him and talk to him if you can. They might not, since they can see the entrance to the men's room, and I'm leaving the dessert here, like I intend to come back. There's money under the handkerchief for the bill." He raised his voice. "I'll be right back, Kay."

He strolled toward the restroom, moving casually, not hurrying. Kay watched Michael, then looked toward the bodyguards. They were whispering to each other. One of them was shaking his head. Michael had reached the men's room and pushed inside. Finally the second man dropped his napkin on the table and stood up. Kay stood up, too.

As the man started after Micheal, Kay moved, slipping in front of him. "You work for the Corleone family, don't you?"

The man stopped, looking at her blankly. Finally he said, "Yeah. I'm tryin' to do my job right now."

"And you're doing a WONDERFUL job! You've just been so alert and attentive, and I scarcely knew you were there."

The man glanced to either side, looking for a way around Kay, but the diners at those tables had their chairs pulled away from the table, and there wasn't enough room for him to pass. "Lady, please."

"Is this the first bodyguard job you've had, or have you worked for other people? Have you ever guarded any celebrities?" Finally the man backed up and went around to the aisle, speeding up as he went. "Any movie stars?" she called. He reached a trot as he approached the restroom.

The door didn't have time to stop swinging before the man burst back out, yelling, "Mother fucking window!" The other one leaped to his feet and they both rushed toward the door, one of them throwing money at the startled maitre d'.

Kay smiled, sitting down, and tried to decide if she wanted to eat both desserts right here, or take one back to the room.

~~~~~

Michael had caught a cab just outside the alley behind the hotel. He knew that he'd gained a few seconds when Sonny's men wen to check the car. He could pick it up later.

It was ten-thirty when he reached the hospital. He paid the cabby and entered the lobby, making his way back. His steps slowed as he approached the nurse's station and realized it was deserted. Frowning, he went to the office next to it. This was empty, too, save for a half-eaten sandwich on the desk. Michael stared at this evidence of a hasty exit, then turned and ran down the hall and up the stairs to the floor that held his father's room.

He paused as he came on the floor, staring down the hall to his father's room. There was no guard. There was a chair beside the door, but it was empty. "Jesus Christ," he whispered.

Michael almost ran to the room, but he hesitated at the door, deathly afraid of what he might find inside. He pushed it open slowly and looked in.

His father lay in the hospital bed, looking old for the first time in Michael's memory. He was so still, so deathly white. Michael stared, unable to tell if his chest was rising and falling. He took a step toward the bed, then another.

He heard a faint rasp, and saw the twitch of an eyelid as his father's eyes moved. He almost cried with relief, but he held it back. He was a Corleone, and now was no time for tears. His father was in danger, and he had to act.

A nurse came into the room. Frowning at him, she said, "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here now! Visiting hours were over ages ago."

"I'm Michael Corleone--this is my father. There's nobody here. What happened to the guards?"

She tsked, bustling over to check the Don's pulse. "Your father simply had too many visitors, and they were interfering with hospital service. The police made them leave ten minutes ago."

Michael picked up the phone and dialed the operator. "Get me Long Beach-4-5620, please." As he waited for the connection to be made the nurse smoothed the sheet and started toward the door. "Nurse, wait. Don't go."

She gave him an annoyed look. "I have other patients, you know. I can't."

Michael's voice was sharp. "You don't have any patients you need you more than he does! Stay right where you are."

"But I need to set up the meds, and..."

Michael's voice was soft and cold, "You try to leave this room and I'll tie you to the bed by your hair." The nurse gaped, but she stayed.

The receiver on the other end was picked up, and Michael heard Sonny's voice. "Yeah?"

"Sonny--Michael. I'm..."

"Michael, what the FUCK are you doin'? Carmine just called me and told me..."

"Sonny, shut up and listen. I'm at the hospital, and there's nobody here."

The alarm in Sonny's voice was immediate and clear. "What? Nobody?!"

"Nobody. No Tessio's men, no detectivesbodybody. Papa's all alone."

"Shit. Don't panic, I'll send someone."

"I won't panic."

"No, I don't think you will, kid."

Michael hung up, and the nursinalinally having found her nerve, said, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave."

Michael visually measured the bed, checking to see if it would fit through the door. "Can you unhook those tubes?"

"I... yes, but there's no reason to. You have to..."

"Do it. You're gonna help me move him to another room."

"That is out of the question!"

Michael turned on her, getting in her face. She flinched back as he hissed, "You know my father? Men are coming here to kill him. Now help me!" Michael saw the fear and indecision in the woman's eyes, and one of the other Corleone gifts came into effect--diplomacy. His voice soft, he said, "Please. He's my father, and he's in danger."

The woman straightened her shoulders, nodding. Together they rolled the bed out into the hall and across to another room. Just as they got in, Michael heard footsteps. He peered out and saw a young man in a cheap suit looking about as if lost. He was carrying a bunch of flowers.

Michael raked him with a quick gaze, and could detect no bulge that might be a wn. n. He called, "Who are you?"

The young man smiled at him. "Mister Corleone! I am Enzo--the baker. You remember me?"

Michael did, vaguely. He was someone his father had done a favor for. "Enzo, you'd better get out of here. There's going to be trouble."

The young man's open, sunny expression hardened. "Trouble? If there is trouble, I stay. For your father."

"Enzo, it could be bad."

"For your father."

Michael felt a warm twinge at this evie ofe of loyalty to his father. "All right." Michael thought. "Look, go wait for me out in front of the hospital. I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay." He hurried down the stairs.

Michael stepped back into the room, telling the nurse, "You stay here with him." She nodded.

"Michael..."

The voice was faint. Michael hurried to the bed, taking his faths has hand. The Don's eyes were open, and clear. Michael squeezed his father's hand gently, whispering, "Just lie here now, Pop. I'll take care of you. I'm here now. I'm here now." He kissed his father's hand, and the Don smiled, a single tear trickling down his cheek.

Michael hurried out to the front of the hospital. He grabbed the flowers away and tossed them to the side, then turned Enzo's collar up, hiding some of the Italian boy's fresh face. Enzo fidgeted, "Mister Corleone..."

"That's my father. I'm Michael. Put your hand in your pocket, like you've got a gun. Yeah, like that. Just look mean and calm, okay?" Enzo blinked nervously, then set his jaw. "You'll be all right."

A minute later a large sedan pulled up in front of the hospital. It drifted almost to a stop, and they could see the shadows of several men inside. The driver leaned out, studying them. Michael returned the stare, unbuttoning his coat and reaching in, as if feeling for a gun. Enzo spat on the ground and glared at the men. The driver pulled back in, and the car drove off.

"Say, Enzo, that was pretty good." Michael turned back to congratulate the young baker and found him white faced and trembling. He patted his arm gently. "You did good, Enzo. My father will be grateful." He paused. "I'M grateful."

Enzo gave him a faint smile and took out a cigarette. He tried to light it, but his hands were shaking too badly. Michael took the lighter and did it for him. As he held the flame to Enzo's cigarette he noticed that his own hands were not trembling--they were rock steady.