When they entered the small stone cottage, Mother Marcella had just finished placing a modest meal for Angela and herself on the table.

"And who's this?" She said with hands on her hips.

Angela said, "Mama, this is Demetrio, they call him Harry in America. He's Uncle Dominico's son from Chicago."

"Uncle Dominico's son? Come sit," she pulled a chair from in front of the fireplace to the table.

"Family is welcome here," Marcella said. "Tell me about Dominico and your family. We haven't heard of him for a long time.

"Thanks," Harry said and he sat at the table.

"Who is your mother?"

Harry told Marcella and Angela that his mother was Dominica Porcina from Reggio, di Calabria.

He said, "Mama's family was killed in the 1908 earthquake. She had nothing left in Reggio, so she went to Naples to live with and work for nuns there. Her brother, Francesco arranged a marriage for her. She came to Chicago to marry Papa."

"Yes, I knew Francesco before he went to America. You eat with us," Marcella said. "Angela, give some bread and soup to Demetrio."

As he ate, he told Marcella and Angela about his life and family in Chicago and that his reason for coming to Italy was to meet his grandfather and the rest of the family.

"My father really gets angry if I ask about my grandfather. Do you know why he gets so upset?"

Marcella stared into the fireplace, slowly turned, looked Harry in the eyes, and nodded her head and said, "I understand your father's feeling, Demetrio, but he should feel no shame.

"What's all this about shame?"

"It's not his fault or his mother's."

"Isn't Maria Moribito was my grandmother?"

"No," Marcella corrected, "she's your great-grandmother.

"My great-grandmother?"

"Yes, Carmella, her daughter was your father's birth mother."

Harry sat befuddled, trying to make sense out of what Marcella was telling him. He put his face in his hands. Slowly, the meaning of her words dribbled into his consciousnesses.

He glanced up at Marcella and said, "You mean Carmela is my grandmother's daughter?"

"Yes. I'll tell you what I know," Marcella said. "No one saw Carmela or Maria for months. They were not at church or in town. Antonio, Cousin Maria husband, said she was pregnant, that she decided to go to Naples to have her baby with her family and Carmela went along to help. When your father was born, Cousin Maria pretended he was her baby, but Carmela was really the mother of your father."

"Wait!" Harry got up and paced about processing what he had heard. He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward and looked Marcella straight in the eyes, and said, "You mean?" His face turned apple red as he mumbled, "You mean? Oh, God, you mean, Carmela was his sister, and his mother?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Demetrio." Marcella took Harry's hands and held them. "That's what Cousin Maria, your great-grandmother, told me."

Harry sank down on a chair, a troubled grimace on his face as he struggled to comprehend all that he heard. He got up, walked in front of the fireplace and stared into the quivering flames.

He turned and said to Marcella, "Well, where's my Grandmother Carmela now?"

"No one knows, one day Carmela was here, the next day she was gone."

Harry stammered, "Well, well who gave Carmela the baby? He's my grandfather, right? Where is he?"

"Sit down, Demetrio, and I'll tell you what I know."

Harry and Marcella sat at the table. Angela poured tea for the both of them.

"His name's Colonel Schullo," Marcella turned and spit into the fireplace after uttering his name.

"He's a Colonel in the army," she spit again. "He thinks he's a big rooster, struts around with his beak in the air, because he owns the land. Carmela cleaned his house and did his wash. She had blonde hair, unusual for us. She was a very pretty girl."

"So, don't lots of poor girls clean houses for rich men?" Harry asked.

"I'll tell you what Cousin Maria told me. One day Carmela came home early from her job. She was crying; her face swelled, her eye was black. Cousin Maria ran to her, hugged her and didn't let go for a long time. Gradually, Carmela's sobs softened. Between tears and sighs, she told Cousin Maria what happened.
***