"Oh sweet Mother of Jesus," she begged. "Not now." In front of her were the skeletal remains from a desecrated mausoleum. In a soft voice mixed with fear, she cried, "Nikolas ... Nikolas ... my son … " She saw the light from the cottage and tried to get up. Not being able to rise, she screamed, "Nikolas!
Nikolas! My son!"
"Here ... here ... I am here." Penelope looked down into the crypt in front of her. "Here."
She saw a hand reaching up to her. She took it in hers and then the man emerged from the open crypt. Penelope's eyes widened upon seeing the face.
"Theodor ... Nikolas ... Theo ... Niko ..." Tears filled her eyes. Her hands extended out. He came closer and looked at her face in the dim light of the moon. Staring at her, he lowered his head, inhaling her body odor and fragrance. Both were familiar. He kneeled down, looked again, and then uttered a sudden cry as it came back to him all at once. He still did not know who he was, but now he was pretty sure that he knew who this woman was.
"Mother? Mother? Mitera?"
When Penelope heard the Greek word mitera, she was sure it was not a dream. She threw her arms around him and held him tightly.
"My Nikolas, my son, my son … " Sobbing, they sat there in the cold silence of the graveyard. "Thank you sweet Ever Holy One, thank you," whispered Penelope, holding Nikolas tight in her arms as her whole body shook.
"What in the name of God is going on here? Is that you, Theodoros, and Mrs. ... Theophilos? Oh, no!" he exclaimed, fearing the worst.
"Father, would you give us a hand up," asked Penelope calmly.
"Of course I will," murmured the priest. Theodoros got up quickly to assist Penelope. "I have a lot to talk to you about, Father," said Penelope to the still shocked priest. "Please hand me my cane."
Upon taking her cane, Penelope asked the priest to lead the way out of the cemetery. Even with all the commotion, the guards never came out. Penelope, leaning on Theodoros' arm, limped slowly up the steep stairs to the priest's house, stopping often to catch her breath. "Oh, the taxi driver! Please, Father, ask him to come up."
The priest offered everyone a place to sit around the long linen-covered table. "Now," he said, seeing their exhausted faces, "May I bring you some coffee?" They all nodded yes.
The water in Cairo had not been easy on Penelope. She felt dehydrated, so she was grateful when the priest brought bottled water along with the Greek coffee and traditional Lokum and other Egyptian sweets. They all drank the sweet coffee silently and looked at each other.