Chapter Eight #3
Gaby sat up a little straighter. “We have never met anyone on my mother's side of the family, not even a cousin. When I asked about her family for ancestry day at school, my father told me my mother was orphaned as a young child and didn’t like to talk about her family, it was too painful. I accepted that at the time, but it’s strange.
She doesn’t have a single photo from any time before her wedding to my father.
Not of herself, not of her family, nothing.
I can trace every branch of my father’s family back to the fifteenth century, but my mother seems to have appeared out of nowhere. ”
That was odd, especially for an Italian family, who would naturally boast about their ancestral roots.
“And then there’s the way she acts. She took such a hard line with us, with me in particular, always trying to control what we did, how we behaved, who we knew.
Yes, I know, most parents do, but she was…
different. I can’t explain it. She’d swoop down on me like a raven, pecking and cawing, and then my father would wave his hand and she would just…
walk away. At the time, I thought it was only natural that my father’s word was final.
He’s the head of the household, but it never sat right with me.
It was like…she was pretending to be the strict, caring parent until she was told her part was played and then she would shrug her shoulders like it wasn’t her problem.
“I could be wrong, but once I started thinking about it…Oh, and there is one more thing, Tano.” She swallowed and when her eyes found mine, they glittered with emotion.
“I'm sure you’ve noticed that I don’t have the olive skin that is quite common for us.
Not that my coloring is unique, I mean, there are some lighter Italians, but out of us three sisters, I’m the odd one out.
My sisters look just like my father, but I don’t.
And I don’t really look like my mother, either.
When I say it out loud it sounds stupid. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
My poor piccina was questioning who she was and I didn’t like it one bit. She deserved the world and all of its pleasures, not to be stuck worrying about who she was. I vowed to get to the bottom of this and reassure her. Maybe it was time for me and Romeo to go to the source.
“Come here, Gabriella.” I scooped her onto my lap as she crawled closer and helped her snuggle into my chest. “Now you listen to me. There are many reasons you may look different to the rest of the family. Our baby brother, Vincenzo, looks nothing like the rest of us, but he is our brother. I’ll share a secret with you.
My parents were killed when I was just a child.
My father was Romeo’s father's consigliere. He and my mother were the casualties of some blood feud.”
Her eyes filled with sympathy and she held me tighter.
“Such is life,” I said. “But when my parents died, Romeo’s parents, Isabella and Luciano Vitale, took my brothers, Massimo and Antonio, and me in.
They adopted the three of us. We were born Di Mauro but became Vitales when we joined the family.
The first few months were difficult. Massimo barely spoke.
Antonio cried himself to sleep most nights.
As for me, I processed grief differently.
I understood loss, and was angry about it.
Looking back, I wasn't the easiest child.
I fought.
Argued. Tested every boundary they set.
Part of me expected them to give up and send us away. Instead, Isabella loved us harder.
She made sure we sat together at dinner every night. She attended school events, remembered birthdays, and somehow always knew when one of us was struggling before we said a word.
Luciano was different.
Quiet.
Patient.
Steady.
He never tried to replace our father. He simply showed up every day and taught us what family looked like.
One choice.
One lesson.
One act of loyalty at a time.
Eventually, the distinction stopped mattering. The Vitale name wasn't what made us brothers. Everything that came after did.
The fights.
The celebrations.
The losses.
The victories.
By the time I was old enough to understand what adoption truly meant, the decision had already been made. Those men were my brothers. Not because of blood. Because of love.
Because they chose me. And because I chose them right back.
Romeo, Giovanni, Vinny and Fausto are my brothers, even if not by blood. Family is family, Gabriella, and we will get yours straightened out, I promise you.”
I could feel the wheels turning as she processed what I shared with her.
“Vinny?” She pulled her head away to look at me in surprise. “No. That cute Cali surfer-dude was born a Vitale?”
I laughed at her description of Simba. “See how different he looks from the rest of us? Genes are strange things and Italy was the center of the world once. One Germanic barbarian slips into the mix and five hundred years later, a blond, blue-eyed Italian bambino is born, but I assure you, his blood is the same as Romeo’s. ”
Her frame felt so small as she snuggled deeper into my lap.
“Romeo is scary,” she shivered. “And that’s saying something, as I’ve met tons of mafia men at events my parents dragged me to.”
He was scary, and if things went south, I may be forced to make a choice between the family and saving the woman in my arms. For now, Allegra Gabriella Calabretta was mine, but when things got straightened out, I’d have to find the strength to set her free.
The thought left an unfamiliar ache in my chest. But my path was chosen a long time ago and it was meant for me and no one else.