Into the bedroom." Kay took a long pull from her drink and smiled at him. "Yes," she said.

For Kay the lovemaking was almost like it had been before except that Michael was

rougher, more direct, not as tender as he had been. As if he were on guard against her.

But she didn't want to complain. It would wear off. In a funny way, men were more

sensitive in a situation like this, she thought. She had found making love to Michael after

a two-year absence the most natural thing in the world. It was as if he had never been

away.

"You could have written me, you could have trusted me," she said, nestling against his

body. "I would have practiced the New England omerta. Yankees are pretty

closemouthed too, you know."

Michael laughed softly in the darkness. "I never figured you to be waiting," he said. "I

never figured you to wait after what happened."

Мультиязыковой проект Ильи Франка www.franklang.ru

Kay said quickly, "I never believed you killed those two men. Except maybe when

your mother seemed to think so. But I never believed it in my heart. I know you too

well,"

180

She could hear Michael give a sigh. "It doesn't matter whether I did or not," he said.

"You have to understand that."

Kay was a little stunned by the coldness in his voice. She said, "So just tell me now,

did you or didn't you?"

Michael sat up on his pillow and in the darkness a light flared as he got a cigarette

going. "If I asked you to marry me, would I have to answer that question first before

you'd give me an answer to mine?"

Kay said, "I don't care, I love you, I don't care. If you loved me you wouldn't be afraid

to tell me the truth. You wouldn't be afraid I might tell the police. That's it, isn't it? You're

really a gangster then, isn't that so? But I really don't care. What I care about is that you

obviously don't love me. You didn't even call me up when you got back home."

Michael was puffing on his cigarette and some burning

ashes fell on Kay's bare back. She flinched a little and said jokingly, "Stop torturing me,

I won't talk."

Michael didn't laugh. His voice sounded absentminded. "You know, when I came

home I wasn't that glad when I saw my family, my father, my mother, my sister Connie,

and Tom. It was nice but I didn't really give a damn. Then I came home tonight and saw

you in the kitchen and I was glad. Is that what you mean by love?"

"That's close enough for me," Kay said.

They made love again for a while. Michael was more tender this time. And then he

went out to get them both a drink. When he came back he sat on an armchair facing the

bed. "Let's get serious," he said. "How do you feel about marrying me?" Kay smiled at

him and motioned him into the bed. Michael smiled back at her. "Be serious," he said. "I

can't tell you about anything that happened. I'm working for my father now. I'm being

trained to take over the family olive oil business. But you know my family has enemies,

my father has enemies. You might be a very young widow, there's a chance, not much

of one, but it could happen. And I won't be telling you what happened at the office every

day. I won't be telling you anything about my business. You'll be my wife but you won't

be my partner in life, as I think they say. Not an equal partner. That can't be."

Kay sat up in bed. She switched on a huge lamp standing on the night table and then

she lit a cigarette. She leaned back on the pillows and said quietly, "You're telling me

you're a gangster, isn't that it? You're telling me that you're responsible for people being

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181

killed and other sundry crimes related to murder. And that I'm not ever to ask about that

part of your life, not even to think about it. Just like in the horror movies when the

monster asks the beautiful girl to marry him." Michael grinned, the cracked part of his

face turned toward her, and Kay said in contrition, "Oh, Mike, I don't even notice that

stupid thing, I swear I don't."

"I know," Michael said laughing. "I like having it now except that it makes the snot drip

out of my nose."

"You said be serious," Kay went on. "If we get married what kind of a life am I

supposed to lead? Like your mother, like an Italian housewife with just the kids and

home to take care of? And what about if something happens? I suppose you could wind

up in jail someday."

"No, that's not possible," Michael said. "Killed, yes; jail, no."

Kay laughed at this confidence, it was a laugh that had a funny mixture of pride with