A 'Touched By An Angel' story

By: Yvette Jessen

© 2001, and not intended to infringe on any previously held copyrights.

March 1989

Outside the front window was a bright, sunny day. The cars wove their way down the quiet street as Natasha sat staring blankly outside. In her hands was a worn brown book with dog-eared pages and a letter decorated with various designs. She sighed deeply as the door to the small house opened and closed announcing the arrival of her husband, Robert. She stood up and laid the book in the bay window where she had been sitting prior to his returning. She wiped her eyes quickly and made her way through the den and out into the living room.

Robert was taking off his jacket and smiled when his wife entered the room. "Honey," he said noticing the ever-present dark rings under her eyes, "is everything OK?"

Natasha shook her head and rushed towards her husband, the tears, which were brimming under her eyes were now falling freely. She sought her husband's comforting embrace as the letter she had been holding drifted from her hands and onto the floor. "I don't think I will ever get to go home," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Let me guess, you got another letter from your parents today?" Robert reached down, picked up the envelope, and laid it on the coffee table. Taking his wife's trembling hands, led her over to the couch and bade her to sit down. "Now, tell me what they said, honey."

Natasha nodded as she grabbed the letter from off the table, sat down beside him, pulled the two pieces of paper from the envelope, and unfolded them.

Robert looked down at the letter; he knew that his mother-in-law's Russian script was unreadable to him, so he sat patiently waiting for his wife to begin translating. For some reason, he had a strong suspicion that the news from his in-laws was not going to be good.

"The war is still going on," Natasha read, "we have lost hope, the children are starving, and the politicians are making promises they cannot and will not keep." She sighed deeply as she continued to read. "Stay in America, my dear daughter, knowing you are there is the biggest comfort that we could ask for." Natasha's voice cracked as she continued to read the letter, and once she reached the end, she looked at her husband, hopelessness evident in her eyes.

"You can't give up hope, honey, this will eventually end," Robert said.

She shook her head slowly, "It's been going on for the last five years. How can you be so certain that it will end without the entire area being leveled?"

"Because I have faith," Robert said softly trying to offer her an encouraging smile. "Somehow, God has gotten us through this much, so it must be that He will continue to help us through the rest."

"Right now, I think the chances of this ending are as likely as me meeting an angel from God." Natasha shook her head once again and her eyes fell on the green eyes of her husband, "Robert, I have always dreamed of the day you would meet my family, and see the beautiful mountains of my homeland. Now I fear that I will loose my family before this nightmare even ends."

"Don't talk like that. Peace will prevail in your home, and we will go back; I promise." Robert wrapped his arms around her and held her in his embrace. "I am here for you, I'll always be here for you," he whispered softly as she began to sob once again. When her crying subsided, he grabbed her hand and held it tightly in his. "You know, I love you and that I would do everything I can for you, don't you?"

She nodded, "I know, I just feel so helpless here. I feel so guilty being safely here while they're in Russia, suffering from all of this."

"Don't feel guilty. Even your mother said that you should stay here where it's safe. I don't believe for a second that you being here means that you are doing something to feel guilty for." Robert squeezed her hand once again and stood up. Concern was still evident in his face, but when he looked back down at her, he couldn't help but notice how frail and helpless she looked. He sat back down on the sofa next to her and took her hand in his. "Have you eaten anything, yet?" he asked wondering if in her concern for the events at home, caused her to not take proper care of herself. He often wondered if her behavior these past weeks could be considered some kind of depression.

Natasha nodded slowly.

"I haven't had anything yet, so I'm going to head into the kitchen and see what I can find," Robert said softly. "Are you sure you're OK?"

Natasha nodded once again, as he stood up and walked into the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, Robert pulled some tuna salad out of the refrigerator, sat the bowl on the table, and began to make a pot of coffee. Once that was finished, he poured himself a cup and settled himself at the table. From his vintage point in the kitchen, he could see into the living room. He noticed that Natasha had stretched out on the sofa, and had fallen asleep.

She must have been crying most of the afternoon, he thought to himself, walking back into the living room. He pulled the afghan up off the nearby chair, unfolded it, and covered her with it. He could tell just by looking at her that she was exhausted; the news from Russia had been as bad as he had feared. He had heard at work was that there were many civil wars taking place throughout the large country. He grabbed his stenographer's notebook and once again sat down at the kitchen table.

Two years ago, Robert had worked as a reporter for one of the most prestigious papers in the country, THE WASHINGTON REPORTER, and through this job, he had come to meet Natasha Yaskaya. She had been working in Moscow for the MOSCOW NEWS as a photographer and when he reported the Summit meetings with the Soviet leader, and the US President, they happened to meet during one of the many press conferences.

Upon meeting her, Robert immediately fell in love with the fun loving dark-headed woman. She was petite, young and very enthusiastic about life, just the type of person he liked. Some weeks later, he applied for a visa to remain in Moscow and cover all the events there through the "International Press Association". Unfortunately, the Soviet authorities declined his request and he and Natasha were left having to choose between two options, getting married and both of them settling in the US, or enduring being separated from one another because of the endless amounts of bureaucratic problems he faced in getting the necessary paperwork done.

Both agreed that the best thing to do was to marry and Natasha would leave Russia so the couple could remain together. Although she was some 12 years younger than him, Robert knew that he loved her, and the last thing he wanted was for her to hide herself in their home and live like he was the only source of strength to her.

In Davisville, Colorado, Robert secured himself a job at a local paper, and Natasha enrolled herself in a special English class, which was held at the community college. She knew that she would have to improve her speaking abilities once she moved to America and this seemed a good option. The classes recently ended, and she had been tossing around the idea of going back to work in her field. Her camera had sat untouched in the corner of their home since she had come to America.

Now that Natasha could speak English, there was no reason why she couldn't return to the work she had loved so much when she was in Moscow. But, something had changed her entire outlook and she had fallen into a slump. She was depressed all the time, and had started locking herself away in their home and only left when she had to. Robert could see it in her eyes; she was like a fish out of water. She was doing everything she could to cope with the entire ordeal. His 32-year-old wife had lost hope, and whenever she would hear about the hardships of her family in Russia, she would sit at home, reread the letters from her mother, and cry.

He wanted to do something for her, to make her feel better, but he didn't know what to do. He was beginning to feel guilty that he had taken her away from all the things she had loved back in Russia and this was starting to affect their relationship. If something didn't change fast, they might find their marriage in trouble.

He sighed deeply, he had already found a local delicatessen in town, which sold Russian foods, but this only helped Natasha a little. She was almost always encompassed by those worries about her family, left behind, and the isolation she felt was beginning to make her a mere shadow of the fun loving, enthusiastic woman Robert had met during his trip to Moscow.

Robert slammed the cup of coffee on the table. He knew that the only thing he could really do for her would be to fly back to Moscow with her, but the times were dangerous for everyone, particularly foreigners who roamed the streets of the large city. He feared what would happen to both of them if they went back. He knew that there were always risks involved in such a trip, but he constantly asked himself if the risks outweighed the security he and Natasha would feel in going. He really didn't know.

In desperation, he had also contacted the American Embassy in Moscow to ask about the events in the town where Natasha was born, but the information, which had come back to him, was so sketchy and incomplete, that he opted to remain silent about having made the call.

He picked up the stenographer's notebook and began to flip through the pages listlessly. Seconds passed and he stood up. Lost in thought, he hadn't heard that the phone in the living room had started ringing. Once he recognized it, he rushed out of the kitchen and picked it up right as Natasha opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Hello? Yeah, Andrew, I have the assignment. Avery gave it to me this afternoon before I left," he paused, "Yeah, I came home early, because my wife has beensick."

He paused for a moment, "Yeah, I know, and I'll meet you at 8 tomorrow morning in front of the city hall." That said; he hung up the phone.

"Who was that?" Natasha pushed the afghan away.

"This guy named Andrew, he's one of the photographers at the paper. We're working together on the City Hall story," Robert answered.

"That's nice," she said weakly and laid back down. "Who is this guy? I've never heard you speak of him before."

He nodded, "He's fairly new there, I guess he went to work for the paper about a week ago, but only yesterday, we got assigned to work together." He sat down next to her.

Natasha shrugged her shoulders and looked around the room, "Is something wrong?" she finally asked when she saw the look of confusion on her husband's face.

"Not really, it's just this guy is kind of weird. He seems almost celestial in the way he deals with people. The women would flirt with him, I mean he's not a bad looking guy, but he wouldn't bite, it just didn't seem to be his style or something." Robert sighed deeply, "Anyway, when Avery assigned us to work together, I thought I was going to die of boredom, he's such a quiet and subdued person. Anyway, I talked to him for awhile, but nothing really intensive, but he seems to know what to do with a camera, because some of his shots have a human interest approach to it, as though there is more to them than just who took the photos. It's like you could see a part of him in the pictures he takes."

"Not too many people can do that," Natasha said as she shrugged her shoulders but glanced over at her camera bag, which was sitting in the corner of the room. "I always wanted to be that good with a camera," she paused, "you think maybe one of these days, I could start taking pictures again and maybe get a job?"

Robert nodded, "I don't see why not. I always wondered why you had stopped. I remember seeing your pictures in Moscow. You were good."

Natasha cracked a brief smile, "were? Do you think that I've lost my touch?"

Robert shrugged his shoulders, "well, you've been out of practice for awhile, so I don't know. But, I think you should go back to it, if you really love it."

"I've had other things on my mind," she said softly.

"I know," Robert's voice came out barely above a whisper.

Natasha looked towards the window and then her gaze fell back on the camera sitting in the corner. She had suddenly stopped thinking entirely about the problems at home, but rather something else. She looked back into the eyes of her husband, but said nothing else.

*~*~*~*~*

Andrew hung up the phone as Tess and Monica entered their small apartment. "No Miss Wings, you're wrong, there's more to working at a school than just shooting the breeze with the kids."

"I know, Tess, but I'm still trying to figure out who my assignment is, and at a school of this size, it's hard," Monica said softly.

"Who is your assignment?" Andrew asked.

"Marina Nastova, she's a Russian exchange student and seems to be going through some rough times with a gang of boys who also go to school there," Tess explained. "The poor girl, I saw her today, and she looks so lonely."

"Sounds like something that is rather apparent around here. From what I have heard, my partner at the paper's wife, Natasha is having the same hang-ups," Andrew began. "I haven't managed to get him to talk about it, he says his wife is sick, but the truth is, she's completely depressed about something she has absolutely no control over. Anyway, I had to call him and confirm our meeting for tomorrow morning." He grabbed a frozen pizza out of the freezer and opened the box. Once the pizza was unwrapped, and on the baking rack, he turned on the heat and went to sit down.

Monica went to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. She retrieved a glass from the cupboard and poured some into the glass. As she returned the carton to the refrigerator, she turned to Andrew. "Do you know why it is that the Father sent you to work on this specific thing, Andrew?"

"No, He just said that it was important for me to make contact with Robert," Andrew replied. "I guess you could say, I'm just following orders. At any rate, the job is very interesting, and being a photographer is a lot of fun."

"It's not all fun and games, Angel Boy," Tess said somewhat annoyed with the direction of where this conversation was going. "You know perfectly well that the Father gave you this assignment to help Natasha, and I hope you won't forget the real reason we are here."

Andrew nodded slowly; he could understand perfectly why Robert needed someone to confide in, the situation in that small Russian village was now reaching the breaking point. Adam and Henry, his friends and fellow Angels of Death had been assigned there as well as a number of other angels, most of them were thankfully from Search and Rescue, but that did not seem to change the feelings that embodied people when they thought about this particular situation.

It was a desperate situation and he knew beyond any doubt that Natasha had adequate reason to be worried, but he also knew that the wishes of her parents were what should give her the strength and not pull her down. For this reason, he had been assigned to her, not as an Angel of Death, but rather as a Caseworker like Tess and Monica. For this, he was extremely grateful.

For the past week or so, the angels had been sent to and had settled in the small Colorado town. Monica was working as a counselor at the high school, Tess was a teacher, and Andrew started working at the newspaper. For the first time since starting to work there, he had finally gotten assigned to work with Robert Stevens, bringing him a step closer to his intended assignment.

Robert was a nice man, Andrew concluded when he contemplated the entire situation, and though he never mentioned God, the angel could tell that Robert believed and though he had a few struggles with regards to trusting God, he did seem to always try, contrary to the worries that embodied him. Andrew was somehow confident that the two of them would become friends over the course of this assignment. Through working together, maybe he and his friends would be able to help Robert and Natasha put their trust in their creator that everything would work out, as it should.

Monica grabbed a package of cookies and opened them in order to put them on a plate for dessert. "It's not too bad here is it, Tess? I mean it's a nice town."

Tess nodded, "I really like it here, babies. The people are friendly and the town's small enough that we don't feel the hustle and bustle of the big city."

Andrew nodded and smiled. "You should see how it is at the paper. This place is rather like that of a big city, because there is always something going on. It sometimes has the air of the big city, even if it's smaller in nature."

"True, and the school is also rather big," Monica said.

"That's because all the small villages around this area send their kids here to school," Tess replied. "Are you going to try and make contact with your assignment tomorrow, Miss Wings?"

Monica smiled and nodded. "I think I know where she eats lunch, so it shouldn't be too difficult to do."

Andrew smiled. "Where is she from?"

"Leningrad, she's apparently the first Russian student the school's ever had, because the teachers and administration have been making a big deal about her since she started school there. I somehow get the impression that she would like them to forget where she comes from and just accept her as a teenage girl with her own troubles and concerns."

"That's the ticket," Tess said. "Specifically, that is what you're going to help her with."

"Yes, but I've never had a chance to talk to her and many of the other kids don't seem to like her because she is getting all the attention. They also have this idea that because she's Russian, she's the enemy." Monica offered, sighing.

"But, she's not the enemy," Andrew objected. "She comes from another country, but that doesn't determine that someone is the enemy."

"She knows that, Mr. Halo, but a lot of those small town kids don't realize that. They hear the hate emanating from their parents, and all that hate is the embodiment of their own internalized fear," Tess said.

"I know that, Tess," Andrew said smiling weakly. "I just can't believe that someone would believe that about a teenage girl and it just doesn't make any sense to me. I mean, she's obviously lonely, and needs a friend." It was obvious to both Monica and Tess that Andrew's gentle heart was leading him away from his intended assignment and towards the young girl Monica had been assigned to.

"Now, you listen to me, Angel Boy, I don't want you to get involved with Monica's assignment, she's got that well under control, you just concentrate on Robert and Natasha Stevens, and leave the rest alone," Tess scolded him, and when she spoke, he immediately looked down at his lap.

"I will, Tess," Andrew said somewhat reluctantly, "but I would still like it if I can meet Marina, and just talk to her."

Monica smiled gently as she looked at her friend. "If I can become friends with her, I'll introduce you, but first I have to make contact and things aren't looking so good with that, she may think I'm like the other adults in the school who want to know her simply because of where she's from."

Tess smiled, "well, she is in one of my classes so maybe that will help me find a way to talk to her. I wouldn't worry Miss Wings, things will work out in the Father's good time."

*~*~*~*~*

The following morning, Tess and Monica headed for the School and Andrew took the bus downtown to meet Robert at the front entrance of the city hall. He stood by the door as people entered the large building, until he saw Robert's blue Ford pulling into the parking lot.

Within five minutes, Robert approached him. "Good morning. I hope you didn't have to wait too long. My wife wanted to make a large breakfast before I left."

"No, I just got here myself," Andrew admitted. "I had to take the bus, and there was a traffic jam. My friends have the car, and they had to get out to the high school," he said with a smile, his camera bag hanging from his shoulder.

"Your friends teachers or students?" Robert asked, his eyes twinkling.

Andrew shrugged his shoulders, "My friend Monica is a counselor and Tess is the new choir director." He explained as he and Robert walked towards the front of the building.

Robert nodded, "Oh really?" When Andrew nodded, he continued to speak, "Sounds like an interesting array of jobs. I used to work freelance that meant that I was never really settled in one place. I guess you could say I'm a sort of free spirit, never stopping in one place. I guess teachers have to stay in one place. Anyway, this is the first place we have lived at since the summit meetings ended and Natasha and I had to leave Russia. Did you hear much about them, they happened maybe two or three years ago?"

Andrew shook his head, "no, I didn't hear much about them actually."

"You didn't hear about 'The Moscow Summit'? That's not possible, I mean it was probably one of the biggest pieces of news to happen in 1987. I can't believe you don't remember the meeting. Where were you? In outer space?" Robert looked at Andrew somewhat skeptically.

Andrew decided that the best thing he could do at that moment was to change the subject. "You said that you and your wife came back from Russia, does that mean that she is from America or somewhere else?"

"No, she's Russian, and was living in Moscow during the time we met. She's from a small town in central Russia, about 300 miles southeast of the city, to be exact." Robert answered.

Andrew nodded and smiled as he thought about the young Russian girl out at the school. "Maybe your wife should meet the young Russian exchange student," he suggested. "I heard from my friends that a girl from Leningrad started out there this past week."

"There are Russian kids at the school?" Robert asked.

"Yes, my friend Monica told me last night that a girl named Marina started classes there," Andrew answered.

Robert nodded and laughed heartedly. "I guess I kind of forgot about that. I did read something about her coming to Davisville some months ago, but then things started heating up for Natasha and we both sort of swung out of the loop. I guess I should tell Natasha about Marina, as she would probably love to meet her."

Andrew opened the glass door of the building and both went inside. "Why is that?" he asked innocently.

"Natasha and I moved here two years ago after the meetings, and she's been having a really difficult time adjusting to life here," Robert answered honestly. He looked over at Andrew and could see a sort of honest openness and compassion in this man's eyes. "Anyway, I've been trying to find a way to make things easier for her, but it hasn't been exactly the easiest task."

Andrew sighed deeply, he somehow understood that Natasha had these feelings, but he remained silent.

Robert continued to speak not really paying attention to Andrew's extended silence. He simply interpreted it as an honest openness. "Anyway, Natasha comes from a small village in southern Russia. Right now, the region where her family lives has been at war. It's some kind of civil war thing, but it's been really an emotional burden for her."

"War?" Andrew asked. "I never heard anything about it on the news?"

"Stands to reason, it's such a small region, most people here have no idea about the existence of it, much less that the situation is pretty dire. The only way that one could know what is going on there would be if they have contacts within the town itself." Robert shook his head, worry evident on his face. "I called the American Embassy in Moscow about three weeks ago, and they couldn't tell me anything. It's so frustrating. I mean, Natasha sits at home and waits for news to come from her parents. She's totally miserable, Andrew, I guess because she feels cut off from other Russian people and her family." He paused and looked back at his colleague. "Sorry, to unload this on you, but it's just that sometimes it's so aggravating."

"No reason to apologize, Robert," Andrew said softly. "I wish there was something that I could do to help."

"Maybe you can," Robert said, remembering the look Natasha gave him when he mentioned photographers and taking pictures the night before. "Listen, how'd you and your friends like to come over tonight and have a traditional Russian dinner? Maybe you can help Natasha, she's a photographer too, and talking to you about the field will probably help cheer her up."

"Wouldn't that be inconvenient for Natasha, though? I mean for us to come in unexpectedly," Andrew asked.

"Maybe you're right, I guess I should call her first, and see if she would be willing to make something for us. Even if she can't, why don't you come anyway, and we'll look at some slides or something?" Robert offered. "There's a pay phone in the lobby. I'll go call her and meet you inside before the meeting starts, OK?"

Andrew smiled and nodded, "OK, I'll save you a seat."

Robert went to make the phone call and was back inside as the first person stood up and began to speak to the city council. Andrew began to take pictures, and Robert pulled a small pocket sized tape recorder from his pocket and set it to record the events in the meeting. Next, he pulled out his stenographer's notebook, and began to write.

After a few seconds, he handed a piece of paper to Andrew. The angel glanced down and read the note. It had the confirmation of the upcoming evening as well as the address to the Stevens' home. He smiled and folded the piece of paper, and put it in the camera bag without saying a word.

*~*~*~*~*

Marina Nastova sat alone on a bench. It was lunchtime and all around her, she could see people rushing here and there, all of them seemed to have someone to meet or talk to. Even though she was happy to finally have some time to herself, she felt a little isolated. Of course, there were other students sitting around the courtyard, but no one spoke to her. Maybe they were shy, or intimidated by her, after all, everyone seemed to have made a big deal about her being there. She wished that the people would stop looking at her as only the Russian exchange student in Davisville and she wondered how long she would be considered the outsider. More than anything, she wanted to fit in and do the things other teenagers did. Since all the adults were making a big deal about her, it seemed to have isolated her from the other kids.

She looked around and saw a young auburn headed woman approaching. She looked to be as lost as Marina somehow felt, but the young girl kept her head down. She had seen this woman before; she seemed to be working in the counseling offices and helped the students with schedules and problems. On the other end of the courtyard, she could see a group of older boys. She didn't like them that much; they called her "the Russian Fish" all the time and were unkind to her.

She reached down and grabbed her books, but as she began collecting them, the young woman she had seen was coming closer to where she was seated, and she offered Marina a warm smile. It seemed obvious to her that this woman would be the next to make a big deal about her, and she was not all that keen on the idea. Within seconds, the woman addressed her in a voice that sounded soft and friendly.

"Hi, do you mind if I sit down?" The voice that emerged, although English, was accented with a lovely Irish lilt and this gave Marina an instant feeling of understanding. Now the angel was standing next to her, she was smiling, and her hands were holding tightly to the strap of her briefcase.

When she finally managed to make eye contact with Monica, she could see that the angel's brown eyes were sparkling, and it was clear that she was not exceedingly shy, but rather warm and open.

Marina shrugged her shoulders, "it's a free country," she mumbled moving over so Monica could sit down.

As she sat down, she introduced herself. "I'm Monica."

"Marina," was all she said. She continued to collect her books. One of them fell off the bench and slid over by Monica's feet.

The angel leaned down to pick it up and once she held it in her hands, she glanced down at the worn black book. The gold writing on the cover caught her attention and she ran her hand over the words in the cover. Monica recognized it as an English/Russian dictionary and as she opened the book and looked down at the typed pages, she shook her head in surprise. "Wow, I never thought that Russian had a different alphabet. It looks like it would take me a long time to learn it."

Marina nodded, "I guess, I wouldn't know."

Monica smiled warmly and handed the dictionary back to her. "How long did you study English?"

"Since I was 8. I attend a school that specializes in English language," Marina answered as she accepted the book from Monica.

"It must be so nice to speak a second language. I love languages, but most of them I forget if I don't use them. I guess you have to have the aptitude for languages to learn them," Monica offered gently.

Marina shrugged her shoulders, "I guess," she repeated.

Monica nodded, not knowing what else to say. After a few uncomfortable seconds passed, she spoke again, her voice soft, "I'm sorry I didn't come and say anything to you before now. I've been trying to adjust to all the changes since coming here. I just arrived in town about a week ago, and I'm still getting lost roaming around here," she paused as soon as she noticed Marina's unemotional expression. Monica couldn't get over the strange feeling that Marina was just waiting for her to leave, and this made her feel somewhat sad. Finally, she reached for her briefcase and stood up. "Why do I get the feeling that no matter what I say, you're not going to like it?" She finally asked, her voice emerging sad, but oddly enough there was not any trace of anger that Marina would have expected to hear.

The girl looked up; this time her blue eyes met those of the angel. She realized at this moment how much she had wanted to have friends, and now her attitude was obviously not helping in this regard. Finally, she spoke up, her voice filled with shame as she smiled weakly at Monica. "I'm sorry, please don't go. I guess I just thought that the grown ups here only want to talk to me about political beliefs or something, and I just couldn't deal with it anymore."

"That's really hard, to be different, isn't it?" Monica asked gently, her voice filled with compassion as she sat back down.

"Yes, it was like this deal with the boys here, they don't like me, and they make their dislike towards me quite obvious. I guess it's hard to come to a small town from someplace like Leningrad, but it is and they make fun of me."

"I know, but the truth is, Marina, not all the boys at this school are like those who tease you. I know how hard it is for a young lady to find her place here, in a new school, and making friends is not easy, especially when one is as shy as you appear to be. But, keep in mind, not everyone here wants to exploit you because of where you come from, they just want to understand someone who grew up in a different culture than they did. I'm under the impression that many of these kids here will never even see another country, much less understand a foreign culture. You have the chance to learn this, and that's a gift."

Marina smiled, the angel's words sounded sincere enough, but she could only offer Monica a weak smile.

"I know that regardless of how special it is that you're here, it must also be kind of weird for you to come to a new country, and not know anyone else." Monica finally said.

Marina nodded, "yes, I suppose it is a little strange for me. I was chosen in my school to come here, because I had the highest marks in English." She shrugged her shoulders, "I was excited about it at first, but now I am a little overwhelmed. I guess I wasn't expecting people to treat me any differently than the people in Leningrad did."

"Yes, I noticed that they really spoke a lot about you coming. Perhaps that is the reason that I did come and say hello to you right after you started classes here." Monica smiled at her as the bell rang.

Marina nodded sadly, "I think most of the students here feel that way."

"I get the feeling that you don't like the attention so much," Monica offered.

She shook her head, "no, I just want to be treated like a normal person."

They both stood up and when some of Marina's books slid to the ground, Monica leaned down, picked them up, and handed them to the young girl. "Maybe they will now that you've been here for a couple of days," she said and smiled encouragingly at Marina, "what class do you have right now?"

"Choir," she answered as she grabbed her books off the bench.

"Can I walk with you?" Monica asked. "My friend, Tess, is the choir director."

Marina shrugged her shoulders, "if you want."

They walked into the school together.

After dropping Marina off at the choir room and giving Tess the thumbs-up sign, Monica returned to the counselor's office. As she walked she could hear one of the older boys speaking to his friends about Marina. Monica knew this boy, he was considered by many of the faculty to be a troublemaker. Randall Simms was also one of the star athletes at the school and it seemed as though he was somehow always getting his way when things happened.

"Hey Stan, did you see what the Russian fish had on today? Talk about completely lacking in taste." Randall asked, a smirk on his face as he playfully punched one of the other boys on the shoulder.

"Do you honestly think I would notice her?" Stan asked with a snort.

As the bell rang once again, the two boys looked at each other and practically ran in the directions of their next classes.

Monica stood watching them as they disappeared around the corner. How can children be so cruel, she asked herself, but instead of saying anything further, she went into the office and prayed for a few minutes before the next child came inside.

*~*~*~*~*

As the final bell rang, Marina left her English Literature class and walked slowly down the hallway. She could see Monica was standing near the door to the choir room and she guessed that the kind woman and the choir director were deep in conversation, and rather than approaching them, she walked towards her locker without saying a word.

"Well, well, well. Look at what we have here," a sarcastic sounding voice interrupted her quest to find her locker and she looked up and could see that Randall Simms was coming in her direction and his eyes were literally baring into her own. He and his girlfriend were coming down the hallway, their arms were linked they were making a beeline directly towards where Marina was standing.

Heidi laughed falsely and eyed Marina critically.

Monica had been watching, but instead of coming closer, she gave Tess a look of extreme sadness. The two angels watched, both of them knew of Heidi, she was one of the school's snobbiest girls and it was rumored that she and Randall were two of the biggest bullies around. After a few moments, Tess stepped between them and Marina hoping to prevent her from being directly in their line of assault. "What do you two think you're doing?" She demanded in her no-nonsense voice.

"Can't we even say hello?" Randall sneered. "We're not bothering anyone, are we Heidi?"

The senior girl started to laugh and walked around Tess and stood facing Marina. "Nope, just want to welcome you to our school, Kiddo," she said, but on her face was an expression of extreme disgust, which she did not try to hide.

The younger of the two girls wiped her hand across her nose. Heidi was wearing way too much perfume and make-up and as she came closer, the odor emitting from the girl caused Marina to sneeze.

As she was reaching into her pocket for a tissue, Heidi looked at Randall, "I gotta get outta here, before I get sick. I'll meet you outside." She pointed her finger at him, "behave yourself!"

She walked away laughing and two other girls joined her. Randall's attention diverted back towards Marina who was still standing in the hallway next to the rows of lockers. "I'm really disappointed that they even allowed you to walk through the doors of this place."

Tess looked over at Marina, and then back to the boy. "Randall, unlike you, Marina is a good student, who has a lot of potential. She would not be here if she had not been warmly welcomed."

Randall began to laugh, as he walked away.

Marina had by this time, managed to move quietly away from Tess and Randall. Once she was a safe enough distance away, she ran towards the door, which would lead outside. All she wanted to do was get out of there.

As she could see her backing away from them, Tess saw the frightened tears beginning to stream down her cheeks and this left her angry, but she tried to hold back on reacting on this. The last thing she needed was to lose her cool and risk ruining Monica's assignment. "How can you treat her so badly? She's a guest in this country and in this school, and should be treated as such. She's a person, Randall, and that attitude of yours is malicious and childish."

Once the boy was gone, she turned to face Monica who had by this time approached her. "Go after her, Miss Wings, she's outside by the track."

Monica nodded and walked quickly in the direction Tess had told her to go. As she walked through the halls and came outside, she finally saw Marina. She was sitting on the bleachers out on the racetrack in exactly the same place she had been advised.

Marina was watching the cheerleaders as they started their after-school rehearsal. She looked down at her clothing, the white blouse damp from tears and her blond braided hair hanging by her face. In her fist were balled up wads of tissues.

Coming closer, Monica could see the tears in Marina's eyes, and her heart went out to the girl. She seemed so isolated and alone, but at the same time, the angel couldn't deny how strong and almost stoic she looked. It was like Marina knew deep down inside that she was really something special, but somehow had not reached the point where she would believe it. How could anyone be so cruel to her, Monica asked herself again and again as she made her way over to where Marina was sitting and once she was standing next to Marina, she rested her hands gently on her shoulders. "Are you all right? Is there something I can do for you?"

She moved away, thus breaking contact with Monica. "Please just leave me alone," she whispered.

"No I won't go, you need a friend," Monica began. "At the very least, you need to have someone who will listen to you and at least try to understand how hard things are for you. I know you don't like it here, am I right?" After a second passed, she lowered her hands from the girl's shoulders and sat down next to her. They both sat for some moments staring out at the events taking place on the field.

She shook her head, the touch from Monica somehow calming her; "it's nothing like I had expected, Monica."

"What did you expect?" The angel asked, her voice gentle.

"I guess I expected people to be friendlier, is all," Marina said softly.

"I understand that expectations and reality are sometimes hard, Marina," Monica said softly. "I think maybe the other adults make a deal about it because of how the politics were before now. When you think about it, it's pretty neat that you're here. Just imagine how it was for the people the age of your parents and older. They probably never thought that there would be the openness permeating from the Soviet Union. This must come as a very big shock to them. I mean, let me ask you a question, how did your parents look at America back when they were your age?"

"I guess, to them it was like a mystery. We had heard so much about it, but yet so little. It was like a place carved out of our fantasy. My mother used to tell me that during the 1950's that people were afraid of even mentioning America in her school and if they did, it was in a negative way," she said honestly. "I suppose that Americans saw us like this, too."

"I remember that during this time period, there were people who were terrified of Communism. Did you ever hear about the Red Scare of the late 50's, and McCarthyism?" Monica asked.

"No," she replied.

"There was a politician here who instilled fear into people about Communism and about the Soviet system. His paranoia managed to destroy the lives of so many people; those who may not have cared about politics were suddenly 'accused' of being Communists. It's been compared to the Salem Witch Trials of the 1700's," Monica explained. "I mean, both countries have come a long way since the 1950's, and now people are able to have an understanding of each other because of Glasnost. Gorbachev is the one who started this, correct?"

"Many people in Leningrad don't like him," she said, "but it is in part his programs which brought me here," she said honestly.

"Do you regret it?" Monica asked gently.

"I don't know, I guess not," she answered. "I never really thought about the entire thing that way. You definitely give me something to think about."

"It's going to be OK," Monica said gently. "Eventually, things will get easier and the other kids will give themselves a chance to get to know you.

Marina smiled weakly.

"Besides, as strange as this may sound to you, I do understand, and as for feeling like an oddity, you're not. None of God's children are oddities, Marina. I am trying to treat you 'normal' just like you said, but I don't know what I else I could do to make you believe that I want to be friends with you."

Marina nodded, the sadness still evident in her face, but she smiled weakly. She reached over and grabbed her books. "I guess I shouldn't have gotten angry at you. I'm sorry. It's just hard, I don't have any friends, and I miss my family."

"I know, but you're never friendless as long as I'm here." Monica reached over, took her hand and squeezed it.

Marina smiled, "you've been very kind, Monica, thank you." She glanced over at the parking lot where the busses were usually parked; it was now empty. "I guess I'll have to wait until the late busses run, huh?"

Monica smiled, "I have an idea. Why don't you come to my apartment for a snack, and maybe my friends and I can drive you home later. You can call your host parents from there if you want."

She nodded, "yes, that would be very nice."

"We don't live very far from here, only a few blocks away," Monica stood up, but looked back at her, a mischievous grin on her face. "Unless you'd like to watch the cheerleaders practice."

She shook her head and they stood up. Once they were on their feet, Marina looked at Monica. "I'm sorry if I seemed so angry at you," she offered.

"It's OK, I mean I understand that it's not exactly easy for you."

"The funny thing, when I was in Leningrad, I was never teased. People saw me as being like Heidi at school. I was popular, and smart and the other kids wanted to be like me," Marina said. "It's only now that I have realized that I don't want others to see me this way and when I get home, I'll make sure that the other kids at my school understand this."

Monica smiled, "that's wonderful, and maybe it will make a difference to some of the other kids." They made their way across the grassy field towards the street, which would lead them to the apartment where Monica lived. She followed Monica towards the stairs, and they climbed up to the second level.

Once they had come down the hallway and reached the front door to the apartment, Monica unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Our apartment is very small, but it's comfortable."

Marina laughed, "OK."

They walked inside, and Marina dropped her backpack and books on the couch. She looked around the small living room, approached a window, and looked outside. As she was turning around, she noticed that the bookshelves were mostly empty and she sighed sadly when she saw nothing that seemed a semblance of what someone would call a home. There were no pictures, no personal mementos, just white walls, empty shelves and no decorations. The apartment was empty and Marina found it to be rather depressing.

"Is something wrong?" Monica asked noticing Marina as she stared at various specific places around the room.

"No, this room just reminds me of my room at my host family's house. Isn't it depressing for you to not have any pictures or mementos in here?" Marina picked up a magazine from the coffee table as she sat down.

"I guess so, but my friends and I are rarely here, and we don't have time to collect a lot of things." Monica offered.

She put the magazine back on the table and her eyes met those of the angel. She eventually shrugged her shoulders and tried to think of a way to change the subject.

"So, tell me about your family?" Monica asked as she sat down.

"There's not much to tell, my father used to always work, and I never saw him, so my mom pretty much raised us. I have an older brother, Alexei, he's 17." She picked up her backpack, "I have their pictures here."

Monica watched as Marina reached inside the backpack and pulled a small notebook out. Once she held it in her lap, she untied the strings keeping it closed and opened it. "This is my mother, her name is Inna, she is a Biologist, and that's my father, Sergei, he's an Economist. My brother is still in school, but plays the guitar in a heavy metal band."

"Your brother's a musician?" Monica asked.

"Yes, he attends a special music school. Most of these schools train people to play classical instruments, but he managed to get in with the guitar. I brought a tape of him playing, but it's at my host family's house. I'll play it for you sometime if you want to hear it," Marina answered.

"That's really nice," Monica said gently. "It sounds like you have a really great family."

Marina nodded as she closed the notebook and retied the ribbon.

Once she returned the notebook to the backpack, Monica changed the subject. "Are you hungry?" She asked and once Marina nodded, she continued. "Why don't we see if there's something in the refrigerator, then?"

Marina nodded; she usually ate something at about this time of the day. She followed the angel into the kitchen as the front door opened and Andrew came inside.

Monica turned around when she heard the door closing and smiled when she saw Andrew standing in the living room. He placed his camera bag on the sofa. "Hello Andrew! You're home early," When she saw Andrew's gaze fall on Marina, she spoke again, "this is Marina Nastova, Marina, this is my friend, Andrew."

Andrew approached the girl and smiled, "Hello, it's nice to meet you Marina. Monica told me about you starting school this week. Do you like it?"

Marina nodded slowly, "It's OK."

"Just OK?" He asked.

Marina shrugged but offered no details.

Andrew immediately noticed the uncomfortable silence that seemed to be emanating from the girl and decided it was best to not pursue the subject too intensely. Instead, he smiled and offered her a cheerful response. "In that case, I hope it will get better for you." His attention diverted to Monica and he spoke softly to her. "We've been invited to dinner with Robert and Natasha Stevens. You didn't plan anything, did you?"

Monica shook her head, "no, I didn't, but I was wondering if we could give Marina a ride home a little later? She missed the bus."

Andrew nodded, "no problem here but maybe you should ask Tess."

"Natasha? That's a very typical Russian name," Marina said softly.

"Yes, one of the reporters at work is married to a woman who worked in Moscow," Andrew answered, but suddenly, an idea struck him. "If you would like to meet her, I can call Robert and see if they would mind of you came along with us. Maybe it would help make things easier if you were to meet other Russian people."

Marina smiled and nodded, "I would, but I would have to call my host family and ask them if I can."

"There's the phone, why don't you call them?" Monica suggested.

"Let me call Robert first, and see if that would be OK," Andrew said. "I'm sure it will be fine, but just to make sure." He sat down and picked up the telephone. Once he dialed the number, he waited until an answer came. "Hello, Robert?"

"Hey, Andrew. Everything's set. Natasha is at the deli now and picking up the food," Robert said.

"That's great, I was wondering if it would be OK to bring another friend?" Andrew asked. "Yes, Monica would like to come, and when Tess gets back I'll ask her, but the person I thought might enjoy this is Marina."

"She's the Russian girl, right?" Robert asked.

"Yes," Andrew answered.

"Of course, bring her," Robert said enthusiastically. "I haven't told Natasha specifically who was coming, I only mentioned to her that I thought a dinner party would be fun. She thinks this is going to be a business dinner. Come at 7."

Andrew smiled, "OK, we'll be there, but Marina has to call her host parents first to see if it's OK to come with us."

After a couple of minutes, Andrew hung up the phone. "Robert said you are more than welcome to come with us. Why don't you call your host family and ask them?"

Marina walked over to the couch and tentatively picked up the phone. Once she called them, and they gave her their permission, she hung up the phone, and nodded. "They said I could go, as long as I get back no later than 10."

Andrew smiled and nodded. "We'll have you back in time." After a few seconds passed, he stood up. "Did you get something to eat?"

"No, you came in right as we were about to find something," Monica said.

"OK, then sit down and I'll find something for all of us," Andrew said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Thank you," Marina said softly, as she sat down on the sofa.

Five minutes later, Andrew returned to the living room. In his hands he carried a tray with three bowls of stew and crackers. He sat them down on the table as Monica sat down next to Marina. Andrew took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the coffee table.

After a few moments, the compassionate Angel of Death broke the silence, "So how did everything go today?"

"Everything went fine, Tess had to stay late for a faculty meeting," Monica answered.

Andrew nodded, but looked over at the young girl. Although she had started to eat the stew that was in front of her, he could tell by her facial expression that she did not seem to be at all comfortable with the topic of school. "Are you OK?" he finally asked unable to ignore her discomfort any longer.

She sighed deeply as she took a cracker and bit into it. "This week has been really strange for me," she said after she managed to swallow the bite of food.

"How so?" Andrew asked.

"It's just different, that's all. I guess that's kind of difficult for you to understand, but I feel out of place here," she said softly.

"Because you're from another country?" Andrew asked gently.

"Yes, because I'm Russian, but I'm also a person, and if people want to talk about me, maybe they should simply say that I am a new student or that I like music or books about modern art," Marina said honestly.

"I'm under the impression that you would rather them just keep silent about where you're from, and just accept the fact that there is more than just your nationality that defines who you are?" Andrew offered.

Marina nodded, "especially now, during this time. I'm not an enemy to Americans; I'm Russian, but not Communist. My parents aren't either. My uncle is in the Party, but he's the only person I know of who is."

"Party?" Monica asked, her confusion evident. "I don't understand."

"When Marina says 'Party', she's referring to the Communist Party. Only 6% of the Soviet population are members of the Communist Party," Andrew explained.

Marina nodded, "you're very smart, Andrew. But, most people in the USSR don't consider themselves to be Soviet; they identify themselves by their nationalities. Soviet actually means Counsel, but it's more or less a term adopted by the Communists."

"I thought that most people were Russian," Monica said.

Marina nodded, "well, yes, most are, but there many other nationalities, Ukrainian, Estonian, Byelorussian, Kazak, and so on."

"Are there a lot of other nationalities in Russia?" Monica asked.

She nodded, "yes, there are. Where I went to school, most of the kids were Russian, but there was a girl from Ukraine and a boy from Latvia, and they hated being called Russian. She was Ukrainian, and he was Latvian."

"I guess it's like being from Canada and having people call you American," Monica said smiling weakly. "I remember meeting a few people from Vancouver who where living in Seattle, and they despised it when people called them Americans. They were very proud of their nationality."

"Exactly," Marina said softly. She smiled at them and reached for her backpack. Once she had it in her lap, she opened a small pouch and pulled two small gold pins out. "Here, I have something for you. These are from Leningrad and I brought them to give to my new friends."

Monica and Andrew accepted the pins she offered and looked down at them. "Thank you."

"What's that building on this one called?" Andrew asked as he strained his eyes to read the writing on the small gold pin. When he couldn't, he smiled sheepishly and waited for their young friend to explain.

"That is the Kirov, that's where they have many ballets in Leningrad," Marina explained. "It's really famous, but not as well known as the Bolshoi in Moscow, but they are also very good. Anyway, I used to go there with my parents on special occasions. It's one of my favorite places in the city."

Monica smiled, and once Marina had explained the significance of her pin, the Winter Palace of the final Russian monarchs, Andrew stood up and went and retrieved some bottles of water and three glasses. Within moments, he had rejoined them in the living room.

The afternoon rushed by quickly as the three of them talked.

*~*~*~*~*

Late in the afternoon, Natasha came into their apartment carrying the bundles from the deli. Robert was lying on the sofa. "Honey?"

"In here," he called out when he heard her voice. When she came into the living room, he smiled gently as he sat up. "It looks as though you bought out the entire deli. Is there anything left for the other customers?"

"I don't know, but I have to get started. It's almost five, and you said that they would be here at seven. Right?" She answered his question with a question of her own as she headed into the kitchen.

"Yes, and I can't tell you how happy I am that you are doing this," he said softly. "I didn't want to inconvenience you, but I thought this would be a lot of fun for you to prepare an authentic Russian dinner tonight."

"For a business dinner? That's fun?" Natasha looked at her husband curiously. "I have a strange feeling there's something about tonight that you're not telling me. Anyway, I think you might be right, I am feeling a little bit better."

Robert smiled and nodded, "I'm not telling you anything about it, but I will help you with the food if you want me to."

"You don't know anything about cooking much less Russian cooking," Natasha said knowingly, "I'll do the food, but if you want to help, then maybe you can set the table."

Robert nodded and bowed humbly to her, "your wish is my command."

She laughed, "I always knew you were my prince."

*~*~*~*~*

At 6:30, Natasha had finished the food, and she looked over the table. Sighing deeply, she looked back at her husband who appeared as though he had run out of steam. She smiled gently at him, "I hope that this will be enough food."

"It looks wonderful," he answered smiling.

"I don't look so good though, I need a shower and fresh clothes. I'll be back down in a little while, OK?" Natasha said looking down at the smudges of butter on her blouse. "There are two bottles of wine in the refrigerator, and some mineral water under the sink. You can bring them into the dining room once the guests arrive, OK?"

Robert nodded as she quickly left the kitchen, ran through the living room and up the stairs. There was a new energy in her and he was relieved when he saw it. Maybe this dinner party was really a good way to get her over her case of the blues. He smiled weakly as he glanced over at the camera that sat in the corner. It had to work, and Andrew had been so gracious about it.

Natasha was still upstairs when their doorbell rang some 20 minutes later. He called up to his wife, and went to open the door. Andrew, Monica, Tess and Marina were standing outside, and he invited them in.

As soon as they came in Andrew made the introductions.

"Wow, it smells wonderful in here," Monica said once she had greeted her host. She immediately noticed the smells of the food wafting through the house and could feel her very human mouth begin to water as though she was stuck in the middle of the fairy tale, 'Hansel or Gretel'. It was as though the four of them were now standing in front of the witch's candy house and were about to mesh their faces in gingerbread. As she was being led into the living room the scents of food became even stronger.

"Natasha will be down in a few minutes, she really went all out for this," Robert said. "Why don't you take your jackets off, hang them on the rack by the door, and make yourselves at home? I'll get some drinks out of the kitchen."

Andrew nodded, "thank you."

Robert left the living room and the four of them sat down on the sofa. Seconds passed and Natasha came down the stairs. When her eyes met those of the guests in her home, she smiled. "Hello, I'm Natasha, Robert's wife."

Andrew smiled, "I'm Andrew, I work with your husband at the paper and it's really nice to meet you. These are my friends, Tess, Monica, and her friend, Marina."

Marina smiled and addressed Natasha in Russian, "pleased to meet you."

Natasha's eyes widened and she smiled at the young girl. "It's been a long time since I've heard spoken Russian."

Marina smiled, "I know what you mean, it's not so common here."

"Come to the table, the food is ready, and we can start eating as soon as Robert comes out." They stood up and Natasha led them into the dining room. As she did, she waved her hands around the table. "Please, everyone, sit down."

Robert came into the room some seconds later and was holding a bottle of red wine as the others were taking seats. He began pouring wine into the glasses and paused when he reached the glass of the teenager.

"Go ahead and give her a little, Robert," Natasha said softly. "It's not all that strong, but it's very good."

Marina nodded, "at home, my mother would give my older brother and me some wine when we would have special dinners."

Once Robert finished pouring the wine, he held up his glass, made a toast and they sipped the wine. Natasha sat down her glass and began explaining the food she had prepared. "It's a custom that everyone takes a little of each dish and tastes it, though."

Andrew and Monica nodded, "it all looks wonderful, Natasha," Monica said softly.

*~*~*~*~*

Once all the food was eaten and everyone was full, Natasha cleared the table, and Robert poured everyone some water. "I don't think I can eat another bite," Tess said appreciatively as she turned to Natasha. "The food was wonderful."

"Thank you, Tess," Natasha said as she came back into the dining room. In her hands was a large silver and gold pot. "I'm pleased that you enjoyed it."

"What's that?" Monica asked noticing the large object that Natasha held.

"It's called a 'Samovar', it's a Russian tea pot," Marina answered. "My mother has one at home."

Natasha nodded, "I brought this one from Moscow two years ago." She offered everyone tea and sat back down once the cups were filled.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything like that before," Andrew said.

"Most Americans haven't," Robert said.

"What's it like in Russia?" Monica asked.

"Well, it's not like here, but it's nice," Marina offered. "I grew up in Leningrad, and it's colder there, and the buildings there are much older. America has so much color, and life. In Leningrad, there's color, but it's different somehow. The people don't smile so much, but I think they save it for the true friends that they have."

Natasha nodded, "I grew up in a small town, you have probably never heard the name of it. In my town, the buildings are not of the best quality, but the people make up for that. I remember how my mother and father would come home from the forest and would bring large baskets of berries. She'd make cakes and pies and would welcome the neighbors to come inside for some."

"I remember when I was younger, my mother and father had a piece of land out in the countryside, and would grow food on it. As I was growing up, they built a small house and we would go there during the summertime," Marina said. "I remember when I was younger, I would come home from school, and my mother would have large baskets of potatoes and would make my favorite dinners with them."

"That sounds so great," Andrew said enthusiastically.

"Oh it is," Marina said.

"Why don't I show you some slides from my trip to Moscow?" Robert asked.

"That'd be wonderful," Tess said and stood up. Monica followed suit.

"I'd like that, my aunt and uncle live in Moscow, but I've only been there once," Marina said as she finished her tea.

Andrew remained seated as they left the room. He was interested in seeing the slides, but he had noticed that Natasha hadn't moved, and he didn't want to leave her sitting alone. Once the others had left the room, he took a sip of his tea and spoke, "I want to thank you for this wonderful dinner. Everything was very good."

Natasha smiled shyly, "I'm glad you liked it. I wasn't expecting this to be a fun dinner. Robert had his editor here two months ago and that was a business dinner."

"Robert told me that you're a photographer, too," Andrew said softly.

"Yes, but I haven't taken any pictures since we moved to the US two years ago," she admitted.

"Why not?" He asked.

"I don't really know, mostly it has to do with me having to improve my English," Natasha said as her thoughts began to drift back to the news she had received the day before. She looked down at her hands, and when she felt a stray tear escaping under her eyes, she wiped it away and looked back over at him, a look of determination hiding the internal worries she was consumed with.

"I don't mean to make you sad, Natasha," Andrew said softly.

"It's not anything you've said, I just have a lot on my mind," she said.

"It's not easy being so far away from home, is it?" He asked.

Natasha looked up at him, "no, it's not."

He smiled warmly, "you probably won't believe it, but I do understand."

She looked back over at him, her eyes misting, but her determination to keep it inside overrode everything else. She reached for her cup of tea, but as she reached over, she accidentally knocked the cup over, and tea spilled across the table, and down onto her beige skirt.

Andrew grabbed some napkins and began to wipe the tea from the table as she stood up and ran into the kitchen. He initially thought she was going to get some towels to clean up the mess, but when she didn't come back out, he finished mopping up the tea himself, stood up, walked through the door, and into the kitchen. Inside, he saw her huddled over the sink, crying. Torn up tissues were lying on the counter. He approached her slowly, his voice breaking into her thoughts. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Natasha turned around, her face streaked with tears, and a wadded paper towel in her hands. The tears continued to stream down her cheeks. "Please go back into the dining room, I don't want you to see me like this." she whispered as she turned away from him.

He reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder. Her worries seemed to be consuming her and aside from her husband, it was obvious that she was left with no one she could really confide in. "Why?" His innocent question made her turn back around and face him, but she was unable to answer. "You shouldn't be afraid to show people how you feel," he finally said.

Natasha shook her head rapidly; she knew she couldn't say anything else without getting upset all over again. She wiped a wadded up tissue over her eyes.

"Come and sit down," Andrew coaxed her gently.

"But, the tea, I have to clean it up," she objected.

"I've taken care of the tea, now come and sit down," he pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. "Robert told me what has been happening with your family, and I'm really sorry."

"He did?" Her voice was weak as she sat down at the table.

"Don't be angry with him, he was telling me how you and he met, and the conversation just drifted to the topic," he said. "But, one can easily tell that you're worried."

She nodded, "yes, I am."

"I can't do anything to change what is happening there, but maybe it would help if you got into the things that interest you. Why don't you get back into photography? It might take your mind off the difficult situation facing your family." Andrew handed her another tissue.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"You want to, don't you?" He asked.

"I would like to, but I'm so out of practice," she objected.

"Then, I'll help you. My friends and I will eventually move on, but while we're here, we can work together, and maybe in the process you can teach me something," Andrew said encouragingly.

"I don't really see how I could possibly teach you something you don't already know," she objected. "Besides, I really don't think with your schedule at the paper, that you'd have time."

"Then, I'll make time. Listen, I think you need this. It's just as important for you to not lose hope on the situation your parents face as it is for you to make a life for yourself here," Andrew said gently. "Besides, I want to help, and I think as a friend I would gladly go out of my way to do so. Think about it, this isn't just about a dinner, Natasha, it's about you, and the gifts God has blessed you with. Do you honestly think He would want you to sit here alone and try to work all this out on your own?"

"I don't know, but I also know that I didn't do what I did tonight with the expectation of getting something in return," she said softly, somehow misinterpreting his words.

"I know you didn't," he smiled.

"Then why are you doing this?" She asked.

"Because, I want to," he looked at her intently. "Besides, it would be a lot of fun."

Natasha smiled weakly. "Only if it's not too much trouble for you."

"Then it's settled," Andrew said smiling. "We can get together after I get off work tomorrow." He pulled a roll of film and his watch from his pocket. The film, he handed to her. "here, this will get you started." He opened the cover to his watch and looked down at it as he stood up. "I'm sorry, but it's almost 10 and Marina needs to get back to her host family."

"Andrew," she looked up as he made his way towards the door.

He turned around, still standing in the doorway.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"You're welcome, see you tomorrow," Andrew answered and walked through the living room into the den where Robert, Monica, Tess, and Marina were sitting. "Hi," he offered as he entered the room. "I'm sorry, but we have to get going now. I don't want to get Marina back too late," Andrew said gently.

Robert nodded, "Yeah, you're right it is getting late." He stood up, and smiled at the three women in his den, "I'm glad you enjoyed the slides."

Marina nodded, "Yes, it reminded me of when I used to visit my aunt and uncle."

"Marina, I'm glad you were able to come tonight. I had heard that you were coming, but I didn't know if I would get a chance to meet you," Robert said. "I'm glad I did."

"Thank you for the invitation, I enjoyed the food very much. This has been the most wonderful evening I have had since coming to America," Marina said honestly.

Robert nodded, and smiled as he led them out of the den, and into the living room. Natasha met them as they came out. In her hands was the roll of film that Andrew had given to her. As Andrew was reaching over and had grabbed his jacket off the hook, he spoke. "I'll see you tomorrow Robert, and thank you for everything."

"Yes, thank you very much," Monica offered.

Natasha laughed. "You're very welcome Monica, Tess."

Marina spoke once again to Natasha in Russian, "I'd like to meet with you sometime if you have a chance."

Natasha nodded, "I'll get in touch with you through your friends."

Marina nodded and reached for her jacket. Once she had it, she, Tess and Monica walked outside leaving the others alone. Andrew smiled at the couple. "Thanks again for everything."

Robert nodded and Natasha smiled.

As soon as Andrew had left the house, Robert closed the door behind him and he walked towards Tess' prided red convertible. "We have to hurry," he said softly, I don't want to get you home late."

Marina nodded and she followed them to the parked car. Once everyone got in, she gave Tess the instructions and they pulled into the driveway of the host family some five minutes later.

"I'll see you tomorrow at school," Monica said as Marina was getting out of the car.

"Yes, I'll see you then, thanks Monica, for everything. See you tomorrow," she answered.

Monica smiled and got back in the front seat. "OK, see you then." As Tess drove back towards their apartment, Monica couldn't hide her happiness about how the day had gone, "that went so well, didn't it Tess?"

"Yes, you both have done well with your assignments," Tess said. "How's Natasha doing, Angel Boy?"

"She's doing well, we're getting together tomorrow to take some photos," Andrew said softly. "It seems that she's just needing a little push in the right direction.

Tess smiled and nodded, "good."

"Wasn't the food tonight wonderful?" Monica asked. "It didn't even bother me that we drank tea instead of coffee. It's funny, but I used to think that Russian food was all bland and didn't taste so good, but tonight really showed me."

"It was nice," Andrew commented. "While you two and Marina were watching Robert's slides, I got into a conversation with Natasha and offered to help her get back into taking photos. Something tells me that if she gets back into the things she loves, and then she will somehow get over the difficulty of being separated from her family. It really breaks my heart to see her so unhappy and homesick. Although, I spoke a little bit about it to her, I sense that she's going through a lot of guilt right now."

"Guilt, but why?" Monica glanced around to face her friend.

"Well babies, it's like this," Tess began. "There's a war going on in the area of Russia where she's from. The Father said that she is doubtful about whether or not she will ever be able to go home and visit her family. It's obvious that just to look at her would make it clear that she has lost all hope."

"What can we do?" Monica asked.

"All we can do for her is listen and tell her that God loves and cares for her as well as her family. I don't know if she will listen to that, but we have to try," Andrew said.

"In God's own good time, Angel Boy, you know that," Tess said as she pulled the car into the parking lot of the apartment building where they lived.

"I know, but perhaps after she returns to the work she loves, she will be able to cope with everything she is internally feeling," he paused. "I'm just saying that there's a lot more than one war going on as far as Natasha Stevens is concerned."

"That's right, the internal one she has going on inside is still raging, and the Father doesn't want us to let it drag her down. If she doesn't learn how to handle everything that is going on with it, then she will have a nervous breakdown," Tess said sadly as she shut off the ignition and the three of them got out of the car.

*~*~*~*~*

Monica arrived at school early Friday morning. As usual the courtyard was full of kids, but her eyes were scanning the crowd for Marina. When she finally saw her, she waved.

Seconds passed and Marina returned the gesture.

The Irish angel began to weave her way through the groups of kids until she reached where Marina was standing. "Hello."

She looked up, "good morning, Monica."

As the students began to file into the school, Monica self-consciously glanced up to see Randall Simms and Heidi coming towards them. "Uh, oh," she muttered when she glanced behind them and could see Andrew there. He went unobserved by the humans, but Monica, another angel could see him. He wore his beige suit and was glowing, and she knew there was trouble. Very slowly, as though to prevent Marina from becoming skittish, she slowly edged them towards the door, which would lead inside. She knew that Marina was not in the mood to deal with Randall again, and now she feared that the boy was not only out for trouble, but with Andrew's presence there, that Randall could hurt Marina.

"What's wrong?" Marina asked, as her gaze followed that of the angel. She could see Randall, but Andrew's presence seemed unknown to her, and she felt herself stiffen.

Monica took her hand and squeezed it, "it's going to be OK, but let's get inside." Marina nodded and reached for the backpack that she always carried.

"Well, well, well, lookie here, Heidi. A Russian Fish," Randall sneered and Heidi giggled.

Monica's eyes met the leering gaze of the boy and she could tell that there was something seriously wrong with Randall. His eyes were blood shot, and it looked as though he had been drinking alcohol. Ignoring the strange feeling she had whenever it came to dealing with the boy. "What do you want, Randall?" Monica asked as she positioned herself between the young girl and the upper-class bully.

"What do I want?" Randall asked.

"That is precisely what I just asked," Monica answered calmly.

Randall's eyes widened and Monica could tell that the boy had misinterpreted her question, and she guessed that he was only there to act out on his aggression and nothing more. The bully clinched his fists and glowered at her. "You think you're so smart, don't you, just because you're a school shrink?"

Monica didn't answer, but she continued to hold tightly to the young girl's hand. The young angel could feel that Marina was getting scared, and as her hand began to tremble, she watched as Andrew stepped closer, the light surrounding him growing brighter.

The Angel of Death glanced towards the glass doors which would lead inside, but when he saw no one coming outside to help, he prayed desperately that he wouldn't have to take this child home. Sighing sadly, all he could do was wait.

By this time, Marina had made the attempt at getting away, but some of Randall's friends were present and they had succeeded in backing her up against a brick wall. Monica could do nothing but stand and watch. When her eyes met those of Marina, she almost started crying and she stepped closer to the group.

"Well, let's see just how smart you really are," Randall sneered as he reached into his pocket and pulled a pocketknife out. He came closer to Marina, and by then, Monica could not only smell the alcohol on his breath, but could also could tell that the other boy was bordering on a sense of delirium. His expression never changed but his voice became menacing as he stood in front of the young Russian girl, who was still trying unsuccessfully to back away from him. "After I slice you up," he said menacingly as he tried to corner Monica, "I'm gonna make fish fillets out of her."

Upon seeing her boyfriend with the knife, Heidi stopped giggling, and her face paled. "Come on, Randall, they're not worth the effort," she said softly, her voice starting to shake with nervousness, and she backed a few feet away from him.

"Go get help," Andrew whispered subconsciously to the girl, "you're her only hope, now, Heidi."

Randall turned around, the knife was gleaming in the sunlight and when he saw the wide eyes of his girlfriend staring at him, he spoke to her, his voice demanding. "Go inside." Heidi nodded numbly and ran back towards the door and Andrew watched unsure of what he had whispered to the girl had helped or not. Only time would tell.

He turned back to see Marina's eyes widening. His gentle heart really went out to her as he watched her cowering against the wall. How he wished that he could have done something for her.

Marina's thoughts were reeling, she had seen this kind of thing on television before, but she had no idea that something resembling it could be happening to her. Her hands were up around her throat, her knuckles white. She had no idea what she could do now and when she could see the knife glistening in the sunshine, she involuntarily shuddered.

"Randall, why are you doing this?" Monica asked softly as she tried to maintain eye contact with the boy.

"Because, no one insults me without having to pay for it," Randall jabbed the knife towards them.

"That's right, you just insult people who can't defend themselves," Marina spat out at him, her voice unusually bitter. "The only difference between you and the other boys is that you have to use a knife to get what you want rather than working for it honestly."

Monica looked at her, and shook her head slightly indicating that she should try to calm herself down. The angel opened her eyes and could see that the bully was watching her and now had started to jab the knife in her direction, the blade of the object glistening in the sunshine.

Before Monica could do or say anything, Marina stepped between Randall and Monica as the blade of the knife cut across her upper arm. Monica began to glow and she looked at the boy with the knife. Andrew came even closer, the light surrounding him causing the bully's eyes to widen and he threw the offending object to the ground.

By this time, Monica had ceased to glow and she turned around and could see the tears streaming down Marina's cheeks, as she felt the pain from the cut on her arm. Andrew crouched down next to her and although he believed that the girl could not see him, he was left to conclude that she could probably sense his presence next to her.

As she glanced down, she could see the blood seeping through the material of the white blouse she wore. It was now red and she sank dizzy to the ground all the while pressing her uninjured hand over the wound. Randall turned around, but before he could leave, there stood two teachers with Heidi.

The male teacher ran towards them and grabbed Randall's arm and pushed him towards the glass doors, which would lead inside the school. The female teacher rushed towards Monica and Marina. Heidi was still standing not far from the scene her hand covering her mouth once she saw the blood on Marina's arm.

Monica remained with Marina, her arms wrapping gently around the girl's uninjured shoulder. "Everything is going to be OK, Marina," she said softly, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Coach Michaels, call an ambulance," the woman sat down on the ground next to them. The man nodded and led the boy inside.

Marina looked up at the brown-eyed teacher and back at Monica, "It hurts," she moaned as she rested her head against Monica's shoulder. "Please, don't leave me, you're my best friend here."

"And you're mine," Monica brushed her hand against Marina's hair. She wished that she could do more.

"What exactly happened, Monica?" The teacher asked gently.

"Randall's been picking on Marina since she started here, and today, he pulled the knife on us," Monica said softly, her voice full of sadness. She looked down at Marina and sighed deeply. She could still see that Andrew was still there with them in angelic form, his green eyes filled with concern and sadness.

"It's my fault," the woman said softly. "I suppose I should have said something to someone about Randall Simms before any of this happened."

"What do you mean?" Monica asked.

"I mean, he's a kid with a temper. He threatened to kill me last year if I didn't pass him. You know what 'no pass no play' is?" She asked.

"Yes of course, students have to pass all their classes or they can't do other activities like sports and stuff," Monica replied.

"Exactly, and he failed my English class, and that meant he couldn't play football," she said. "He got really mad about it because it meant that he would have had to miss the championship game."

Marina looked at the woman, "is it normal for kids here to behave this way?" Her hand was still holding the wound, and her voice came out barely above a whisper.

"No, Marina, it's not. I've been teaching for over thirty years, and I've never had a student with extreme behavioral problems like Randall has." The woman rested her hand on Marina's shoulder as the siren from the approaching ambulance could be heard in the distance. "The ambulance will be here in a few minutes, you're going to be OK, and I will go with you."

"Monica," Marina spoke weakly.

"I'm here," the angel spoke as the paramedics approached and one began to wrap Marina's arm in gauze. He could feel her flinching in pain as the pressure from the gauze hurt the wound. Once they had her arm wrapped, they picked her up, and laid her on a stretcher. As they were rolling her away, Monica turned to the kind teacher. "What's going to happen to Randall?"

"Well, after he threatened me, I had to make a statement to the police, but this is more serious. You and Marina were victims of a crime, and will probably have to go to the police and make a statement and possibly testify in court," she said.

Monica nodded, but as she swallowed hard, she followed the teacher and the paramedics to the ambulance. She looked at the teacher and then down at the young girl, she had closed her eyes, and her face had lost all its color.

Andrew was with them, and although he sensed no eminent danger to Marina, he remained with them until they reached the hospital. As they climbed out of the back of the ambulance, Andrew spoke, but only Monica could hear his words. "The Father wants me to get back to work, and for some reason, He said it's a good idea for you to call Robert and Natasha."

Monica nodded and once they pulled into the emergency entrance, the paramedics quickly got Marina out of the ambulance and rolled her inside. Monica and the teacher got out and followed. Once in the waiting room, she looked around for a telephone and remembering what Andrew had told her before leaving, she decided that it would be better to call Robert and at least let someone who knew Marina personally what had happened before the press would find out about it, and reporters would descend upon the hospital. As she pulled some coins out of her pocket, she called the newspaper. Once an answer came, she spoke, "I need to speak to Robert Stevens."

"I'm sorry," came the woman's voice, "but he and his partner are doing field work, and we don't expect them back until later today."

"Do you have Robert Steven's home phone number? I'm a friend of his and Natasha's and there's been an emergency," Monica said urgently.

"Yes, hold on while I check." The woman could be heard digging though papers and once Monica could hear her voice again, she held a pen and a piece of ripped paper in her hand. "555-6879. Anything else?"

"Yes, if you talk to him or his partner, please tell them that we're at Davis Memorial Hospital," Monica said and hung up the phone. She looked down at the piece of paper in her hand, and picked up the phone again and quickly dialed. When Natasha answered the phone, she spoke. "Natasha, thank goodness you're at home, it's Monica."

"Monica, what's wrong?" Natasha asked.

"I can't get in touch with Robert or Andrew, and something terrible has happened," Monica said softly as she tried to keep her voice level.

"Calm down, and tell me where you are," she said softly.

"I'm at the hospital, Marina got hurt at school," Monica answered.

"I'm coming over. Is there anyone with you?" Natasha asked.

"Yes, one of the teachers from the school is here as well," she answered.

"OK, good. I'll leave a message for Robert, and he can tell your friend as well. Did you call the paper?" She asked.

"Yes, but they said they were out doing field work. I told them where I was," Monica answered.

"I'm on my way. Are you at the emergency room?"

"Yes," the angel answered.

"OK," she hung up the phone.

Monica stood holding the phone, and after a few seconds passed, hung up as well. Slowly, she made her way back over to where the teacher was sitting.

"Did you get in touch with the family she's staying with?" The teacher asked.

"I don't know her host family's phone number," Monica said honestly. "I did try to call some friends of ours, but they weren't at work, so I called the wife of one of them at home and she's on her way over."

The teacher nodded. "Try not to worry, I'm sure she's going to be OK. I've seen this kind of thing before, and all she'll probably need are some stitches," she sighed sadly. "It's a pity though, of all the kids at that school, why did it have to be Marina? This was supposed to be one of the happiest times of her life."

"I think now that I understand why it was she didn't want all the attention," Monica mused.

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone was talking about her coming, and she felt uncomfortable with the attention, and it seemed to me that the only reason Randall did what he did was because he was jealous that she was getting all the attention," Monica said.

"I remember that there was a number of people at the school who had followed the story, but I never really got involved in it. I wasn't all that interested in politics, but I remember growing up during the 'Cold War' era, and I'm really glad that they have progressed to a level where they could invite Russian kids here," she said honestly. "A lot of my colleagues have called the Russians our enemies in front of their classes, and have said negative things about the country, and I could never really understand why they did that. I mean we are all people."

"Perhaps Randall was listening to these colleagues who had said that and reacted on those violent impulses," Monica said softly.

"I noticed that there were a lot of things going on with Marina from the start of all of this, which is why I opted to not get involved. I saw you talking to her yesterday after school and I hoped that you would be able to help her. She seems like a very lonely child here, even after a week, being the only one of her kind here, she has lost a sort of glimmer that she had the first days she was here."

"You saw us speaking?" Monica asked.

"Well, I'm the faculty sponsor for the cheerleading squad and I saw Marina sitting alone in the bleachers right before practice yesterday, and then I saw you come over to her," the teacher said shrugging her shoulders.

"Randall had been teasing her, and I was worried about her," Monica said.

She nodded, "I figured. Randall is a very mean-spirited kid."

"Yes, he is," Monica said softly, all the while her thoughts were centered on Marina and what was happening with her. "Strange how we've been talking all this time, and I don't even know who you are, except a teacher at the school."

"My name is Rachel Scott," she said.

Seconds later, Monica looked up and could see that Natasha Stevens had rushed into the waiting room. "Monica, hello. I got here as quickly as I could."

"I'm so glad you're here," the angel said softly standing up and walking towards Natasha. "I think Marina will be glad to know she's got some friends here."

Rachel smiled at the woman who had joined them.

"Have you heard anything?" Natasha asked.

"Nothing," Rachel answered, "but the nurse said that the doctor was taking care of her when Monica was talking to you."

"What happened exactly?" Natasha asked.

"Randall Simms cut her with a knife," Monica said. "There's not much to say, Randall appeared to be acting more out of rage than anything else, and he tried to assault myself and Marina with a knife."

"He's a problem kid," Rachel explained, "I taught him last year, and there were a lot problems. I never said or did anything about him, maybe I should have, because this morning, I guess he kind of snapped."

Natasha looked horrified, "I never thought that something like this would happen here."

"Like I told Monica, this is the first situation I've ever had in over thirty years of teaching. It's really a freak thing, I assure you. It's just that most kids have a healthier way of dealing with their anger than Randall does."

At that moment a man wearing a white lab coat approached them. "You three here about Marina Nastova?"

"Yes, is she OK?" Monica stood up.

The man nodded, "I'm Doctor Jacobs, she's going to be fine. Are you Monica?"

"Yes," came the barely audible reply.

"Come with me, please. She's been asking about you, she wants to see you." The doctor turned and Monica hesitantly followed him out of the waiting room, and through the hallway in the direction of the elevators. Up one flight, they walked down a small hallway and the doctor led her into a small room.

Once inside, Monica saw Marina lying on the bed, her eyes were closed as though she was asleep. The doctor left the room without a word and Monica approached the bed. "Marina?"

Her eyes opened, "Monica."

"How are you?" the angel asked.

"OK, I'm still a little scared," she whispered. "Am I in some kind of trouble?"

"No of course not, you didn't do anything wrong," she said softly and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "It came as a surprise to me that Randall was having emotional problems, Marina, I'm sorry I didn't get you out of there sooner."

"I don't blame you," Marina said softly. "I don't think anyone really knew. Besides, you shouldn't worry about something you have no power over." She showed Monica her bandaged arm, "see it's just a small wound, it's going to heal."

Monica smiled gently at her, "you're a very brave girl, Marina."

The girl shrugged her shoulders as two policemen walked into the room. "I'm Officer Anthony Edwards, and this is my partner Officer Bill Lewis. Are you the lady that Randall Simms assaulted?" He asked looking at Monica.

Monica nodded slightly, "yes, I guess you could say that, but Marina was the one that got injured as a result of that boy's actions."

"I see, well, we're going to need you both to make a statement about what happened this morning," Officer Lewis said reaching for a chair and sitting down.

"May I do this later, right now, I'm not really feeling up to it?" Marina asked, uncertain about what this entailed. She did not wish to admit it, but seeing people in uniforms somehow made her somewhat nervous. She remembered how no-nonsense the Russian police were, and she wondered in the back of her mind if their American counterparts were also rather hard nosed.

Edwards nodded, "Of course, here's my card, it has the number to the station on it. When you're emotionally ready to talk about what happened, give us a call."

"Is that boy going to be back at the school again?" Marina asked, her voice quavering.

"No, he's been suspended from the school indefinitely for having weapons on campus, and his parents have been notified," the second policeman said. "Don't worry about him, regardless of what happens to him, he won't be able to harm either of you again."

"Do you know if someone got in touch with my host family?" Marina asked.

The policeman shook his head, "that I can't say, but if you notify the doctor, he can probably have someone call them."

Marina nodded, "OK, thank you." The two policemen left, and they were left alone. Marina looked at Monica and sighed deeply. "I guess I don't really feel comfortable with policemen around," the young girl finally spoke, her voice soft and she sighed deeply.

"Aside from that, do you feel OK?" Monica asked noticing how nervous the young girl looked.

"Sure, I'm fine," she lied looking towards the window of the small room and not saying anything else.

"Marina, if you're worried, don't be, everything will be OK, just put it in God's hands," Monica said gently.

The girl turned back around and was left looking into the earnest eyes of the Irish angel. "Monica, where I come from, we don't believe in God. We were taught at an early age to believe in government, and politics, but not in religion. If we did, then we would become outsiders. I don't even know how to start believing in some kind of higher power, or that there is anything called 'hope' left. If there, is, then after today, I have none left."

Monica looked at the girl unable to speak. The wise words of the Father told her not to speak further about this topic, but in the back of her mind, she couldn't even start to wonder what kind of life there was without God, and without faith to sustain a person. When she looked into the sad eyes of Marina Nastova, she realized to what extent the loss of hope could have on a soul.

*~*~*~*~*

At this moment, Andrew was standing in the lobby of the city hall waiting for Robert. He had been feeling oddly for the past couple of hours, it had been this way since he left Marina and Monica at the hospital. He wanted to go immediately to the hospital, but he had already been told that he was to stay with Robert and that when the time came for Robert to join his wife at the hospital, then he would be able to go there as well. The Stevens were his assignment, but yet he couldn't get the fate of that young girl out of his head.

Sighing sadly, he could see Robert leaving an office, and walking in his direction.

"Andrew, I just got off the phone with Avery, and he said that a girl was stabbed at the school this morning. He didn't say specifically who it was, but he said that we need to get to the school as soon as possible and cover the story," Robert said sighing deeply.

Andrew nodded and swung his camera bag over his shoulder. He followed his partner to the car, and got in. "Did he say anything else?"

"No, but his secretary had a message from Monica for us. She said it was urgent, but didn't give any details except that Monica had gone with one of the teachers to the hospital."

Andrew looked at Robert trying to hide the fact that he had also been there, and had seen everything that had happened. "Do you think there's a connection between the two things?" He asked innocently, knowing full well that Marina was getting stitches and that Natasha had been called to come and keep the young girl company.

"I don't know, it's possible," Robert looked at Andrew intently.

"Perhaps we should go to the hospital first and then go to the school. It seems to me that there is now more happening there than at the school anyway," Andrew said hurriedly, as he opened the door of Robert's sedan and was about to get out.

"OK, since you think this is a good idea, we'll go to the hospital first and see what's happened, but once that's done, we can get to the school. The safety of our friends is much more important. Besides, the principal and the people at the school aren't going anywhere for a while anyway," Robert said gently. "Besides that, you already look a little bit shaken up, so maybe I should drive you there."

Andrew nodded gratefully, his concern for Marina seemed to be overriding everything else.

*~*~*~*~*

Natasha was still sitting in the waiting room when Monica came out. "How's she doing?" she asked.

"I think she's going to be OK," Monica said, her voice weak. She could not get the words of Marina out of her mind. She had lost all hope, she thought sadly as she slumped down in a chair and waited. Dear Father, she began to pray, her thoughts going straight to God. I need your counsel, she thought desperately. How can I help a girl who completely is a stranger to your love? How can I help her find her way?

"You'll never be able to help her find her way, Miss Wings," Tess' voice interrupted her thoughts. "You might as well give up on even trying."

The younger angel looked up and could see Tess, in angelic form, looking down at her charge, concern in her dark eyes.

Before Monica could even speak, Tess began to lecture the young angel. "Now you listen to me, Miss Wings, you just keep talking to that girl, and when she's ready to hear the truth, then you can tell her, but not one second before the Father says she's ready," Tess said. "Andrew is on his way here with Robert and when they get here, you and he can compare notes on this. I think that Natasha will find her way through all of this, but we can never tell what these folks do, so all we can do is wait."

Monica nodded without saying anything, and once Tess was gone, she smiled weakly and thanked the Father for sending Tess to her to give her some guidance.

Moments later and Andrew and Robert walked into the waiting room. Robert immediately went over to Natasha and Rachel and the three of them left the small room to get some coffee in the cafeteria. Andrew immediately came over to where Monica was seated and sat down next to her.

"Hey," he said smiling gently. "You OK?"

"She has no hope, Andrew," Monica said softly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "The Father sent me to work with a child who is taught at an early age that there is no God. How can I convince her that there is?"

"You can't, Monica, you know that," Andrew said gently. "For now, all we can do is be her friend, and when the time is right, then we can tell her the truth."

"You were there when she was injured too, why didn't you speak to her?" Monica asked.

"Because she's your assignment and I was only there on stand-by. If her injuries would have been worse, then I would have had to say something to her, but for that I was instructed to just be there in case," he said softly. "I would have wanted to say something to her, but then I would have messed things up for you, and you know I couldn't do that."

"You care about her, though, don't you?" Monica asked.

"Yes, I do," he said softly and looked down at his lap. After a few moments, his eyes widened and he glanced back over towards Monica. "The Father wants me to go see her."

"But, I thought she was my assignment," Monica objected.

"She is, but it seems as though He believes that Marina needs more than one angel on her case. I guess 14 years of disbelief won't change over night, but with us both helping her, maybe it might convince her that what she was taught is wrong."

Monica smiled weakly and nodded. "It's nice to have someone on our team," she said softly.

"You know it," Andrew said gently, and stood up. "I asked Robert to bring you a cup of coffee with some cream and sugar, maybe that will help make you feel better."

"Thanks, Andrew, you always know what I need," Monica said and when she felt her friend hugging her, she smiled.

*~*~*~*~*

Marina had woken up some time later and was looking at the light from outside as it danced on the wall. The hospital room was beginning to give her the creeps, but she found her thoughts drifting and one of them was centered on something she thought she might have seen that morning.

She remembered how she had been stabbed with that knife, and how for a split second, she looked up and had seen someone else present. It was Andrew, but he looked different somehow, and no one else seemed able to have seen him there. The look that she had seen in his eyes had been heartrending and after she had been taken to the hospital, he had disappeared and she had not seen him since.

On top of that, she had been thinking about that conversation she had had with Monica less than an hour ago, and how the woman's face depicted sadness when she had said that she did not believe in God.

She remembered hearing that Americans believed in God, but that they had what was called faith; something that among the most educated of Russians had been dismissed as pure fallacy. At the very least, she would try to understand God as the Americans did, and through classes at school, many questions were raised. She often contemplated and her thoughts centered on why it was that religion had been something the people could not accept.

Her thoughts continued until someone opened and closed the door and came inside the room. When she heard the door gently close, she turned and could see that Andrew was now standing in the room.

"Hi," she said softly and offered him a smile.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Fine, but did you take off work just to come and see me?"

"In part, Monica tried to call Robert and he told me and we came over," he said as he sat down in a nearby chair and smiled gently at her. "Natasha is also here, and she and the others went to the cafeteria to get something to eat."

"Can I ask you a question?" she whispered trying to get her emotions together, but all the while remembering what had happened when she had seen him that morning.

"You can ask me anything you like," he said smiling gently at her.

"Monica is a very religious person, isn't she?" Marina asked.

"I guess you could say that, but I would say that the love she has for God is very strong, and if that's your definition of religious, then the answer is yes, she is," Andrew replied. "Does this bother you?"

Marina looked down at her lap and then after a few minutes she forced herself to glance back over in his direction. "I heard about how people here believe in God, but I was always taught not to."

"You were?"

"Yes, but…" her voice trailed.

"How do you feel? I mean, don't think about what you were taught, or what the others say or think, what do you yourself think?" Andrew asked gently.

"I would like to think that we came from someplace beautiful, not that we evolved from a jar in a laboratory," Marina said softly. "But, you know, the party heads in my country don't want us to believe in God, and many people in my country were condemned because they did. It's horrible to admit that I want to believe in Him, but how can I, when what I am is afraid to believe?" She looked at him, and her eyes depicted that of a tortured child. She wiped her hands over her eyes and shrugged her shoulders dejectedly. "How could God even begin to accept someone who has spent the last 14 years denying His very existence?"

"Listen to me, Marina, God would never turn away from you and He would never be angry with you for trying to find your way to Him," he said softly and smiled at her. "To be afraid to reach out to God is not a part of what you are. You are a very brave young girl, and what I have seen of you confirms that all the more."

"How? You don't really know me, and yet, I somehow feel as though I can trust you with everything that I have been feeling, all the confusion and all the uncertainties," she said softly.

"Do you know what faith is?" Andrew asked gently.

"Not really, but I have heard this word," Marina said softly.

"In Russian the idea is, 'vera v Boda', it means in English, 'faith in God'," Andrew said softly. "As English has these words, so does Russian, and Marina, if it is in your language, than you have the right to believe and understand it as it applies to you."

"But my family…" she stammered and he reached over and grasped her hand in his and squeezed it gently his fingers curling around hers, and she found herself not wishing to break this connection.

"I understand that you want to be accepted by your family, but let me ask you something, and you don't have to answer it, but do think about it. How many times have you spoken of God at home? You said yesterday that your parents weren't communists, and that your uncle was in the party, so do you think that maybe it's possible that your parents and brother don't believe everything the communists tell them?"

Marina looked at him and shook her head. "We never talked about this topic freely," she whispered after a few moments passed.

"Well, think about it, if they don't believe everything the communists say, than maybe the beliefs about God that the communists appear to hold, is perhaps something they too have rejected in this political ideology," Andrew said softly, but before she could speak, he continued, feeling God's assurances that the young girl was ready for the truth and knowing that he was the angel to deliver that message.

Andrew began to glow, the light of God's love filling the room and he continued to hold the girl's hand in his. "God does exist, Marina, and this isn't a matter of belief, this is a fact, and He hopes that regardless of what you get out of your time here in this place, that you will find the courage to believe in Him."

Upon seeing the light, Marina appeared surprised and she tried to pull her hand out of his. After a few moments, he released her hand and she backed against the pillow. "What are you?" she whispered weakly. "How can you glow with light, and speak so wisely?"

"Don't be afraid, Marina, I'm an angel," Andrew said softly. "I am a messenger from God, and He sent me and Monica here to help you find your way back to him."

Marina closed her eyes, and could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks. "You mean that God really cares about me?"

"God loves you, Marina," Andrew said gently. "He wants you to know that He will always be with you and that He knows how hard it is to live in a place where belief is questioned every day. This is the courage I spoke of, Marina, and you are courageous. Don't ever stop believing it."

"Why am I so important to God?" Marina asked weakly. "I'm not a very nice person, I don't trust people, and I was confused about whether or not I could even believe in Him."

"He knows that, but His love for you is unconditional, and no matter what happens, that love He holds for you, will always be there, and it won't matter where you come from. What will matter to Him is who you are."

Marina looked into the compassionate eyes of the angel seated next to her bed. "You really care for me, don't you? I could sense it yesterday when we met, but I don't understand how it is that someone could be so kind."

"Maybe it's because since you've been here, you've been used to being treated unkindly by people like Randall Simms," Andrew said softly.

"No, that's not what I mean, I meant you," Marina said softly. "I knew that Monica cares, she's done everything to help me that she could, but I can't get this morning out of my mind," she whispered.

"What do you remember?" He asked.

"After I was stabbed with the knife, I remember seeing you," she whispered. "It was only briefly, but you were standing not too far away from me, and you were watching everything that happened. There was something that I don't understand, though."

"What's that?" He asked gently.

"Why didn't you speak to me? The entire time you stood there, I never heard your voice, and I kept hoping you would have said something to me," she said softly. "You looked sad, but yet you were silent and that frightened me."

"Monica was with you, she wanted to take care of you," Andrew said softly. "She cares for you so much, Marina."

"She is very special to me as well, Andrew, but ever since yesterday, you've been there, and this morning, I saw you again, and I hoped that you would have…" her voice trailed and she looked down at her lap.

"I would have?"

Marina shook her head, "nothing, forget it."

Andrew released her hand and stood up. "I would never forget it if it is important to someone I care about," he said gently, but what he did next, surprised her. He sat down on the bed next to her and wrapped her in his arms.

Marina Nastova smiled weakly, as she felt the arms of the Angel of Death enfolding her, but rather than draw away, she held tightly to him and buried her face in the blonde hair that was brushing lightly against his shoulder.

*~*~*~*~*

It was late in the afternoon when Natasha, Robert, Monica, Tess, and Rachel returned from the cafeteria and they sat back down in the waiting room. "Do you think we can go and see her?" Natasha asked weakly. "I'd like to see her before we go home, Robert."

"I see no problem with that," Robert said softly noticing the familiar assertiveness returning to his wife and in spite of the worries they all had for Marina, he couldn't help but feel gratitude towards the teenager for helping his wife somehow find the drive once again.

She stood up and smiled at her husband. "I'm going to try, I'll see you guys later."

Once she had left the room, Robert looked at Tess and Monica. "It's amazing how she's suddenly got her old drive back. She didn't even have to go out and take pictures with Andrew, and yet somehow this entire fiasco has helped her realize that there was more to life than sitting around reading old letters and worrying."

"Maybe it's simply a gift from God," Monica said softly and Rachel nodded.

"The silver lining," Rachel said softly. "I'm sorry, but I don't see anything good about a child getting hurt, especially one who traveled over 3,000 miles to have a positive experience and ends up in this kind of situation."

"Listen, honey," Tess began. "This situation could have been much worse than getting nicked with a knife and spending one night in a hospital. That baby up there could have died this morning, but because a few people thought fast and put her safety ahead of their own, the situation had a somewhat peaceful resolution." She smiled gently at the teacher. "Let go of the guilt, Rachel, don't let it eat you up inside. Randall Simms had free will, and you are not responsible for what he did. OK?"

Robert rested his hand on her shoulder. "If I know Marina, she doesn't blame anyone for what happened."

Rachel nodded numbly, but she allowed them to console her and after a few moments, she looked at Tess, "I really appreciate your words, and maybe now I can see the signs in this kind of thing and help prevent it from happening in the future."

Tess smiled approvingly; it was nice when humans could see this as a tool to help them and not a reason to overburden themselves with guilt. "Natasha does look better," she offered.

"I haven't seen her so filled with life in over a year," Robert said softly.

"It is nice, honey," Tess said as she nodded. "No matter what happens, the Father always has a reason for them. We just have to believe it."

Monica smiled and nodded and glanced down the hall. She could still see Natasha's back as the woman was walking towards the elevators.

*~*~*~*~*

Upstairs in her room, Marina and Andrew were deep in conversation when Natasha knocked lightly on the door. "Come in," Marina called out and smiled when Natasha came into the room.

"I heard you were feeling better and thought I would come in and see how you're doing," Natasha said softly.

"Better, now," Marina said looking knowingly at Andrew. "I've been getting a few lessons on faith."

"Faith?" Natasha looked at the teenager.

"I never realized how little I know about the subject," Marina said sadly.

"But she's learning fast," Andrew said simply.

"Maybe I need some lessons too," Natasha said softly.

"Why?" Marina asked.

"I'm from Chechnya, Marina, my home has been at civil war for years now, and it doesn't seem to be ending," Natasha said softly. "Today made me realize that taking pictures and drowning out what is happening will not change the events there, but neither will sitting at home and doing nothing for myself."

"I'm sorry," Marina said sadly. "I understand why that must be so hard for you."

"What are you going to do?" Andrew asked. "Are you going to get back into photography or are you going to try and do something else?"

"I've been thinking about doing a book of photographs for years now, and I have enough photographs from my time in Moscow that maybe I could make something out of it," she said softly. "I guess you could say that you inspired me," she said looking at Marina.

"Me?"

"Don't underestimate yourself," Andrew said softly.

"Yes, it was you who came 3,000 miles to experience America, and look at where we are now. There's a reason today happened, and maybe it has something to do with this thing called faith." She looked at Andrew and handed him a letter she carried in her pocket. "Last night, you reminded me of something, and I would like for you to read this. Read it aloud, I translated it into English this morning before Monica called me at the house.

Andrew accepted the letter, pulled it out of the envelope, and began to read Natasha's elegant script.

Dear Natasha,

We are all doing well, although the city has experienced heavy shelling through the last few nights. It has been hard, but our faith that God will somehow see us through somehow manages to sustain us. My dearest daughter, some nights ago your father had a near death experience and though he is better now, he has asked me to tell you about it in hopes that you will always keep your faith that things will get better.

It had been getting dark outside, and your father needed to go and help small boy who lived three houses over from where you grew up. As he left the house, I begged him not to go, but he said that it was important for him to go because it was his home and he had the right to walk the streets as he wished. You always knew that your father could give stubborn lessons to a mule, but that's beside the point.

As the shelling got worse, he felt a bullet enter his side, and he slid to the ground, but as he did, he looked up and could see a man standing near him. According to your father, the man looked positively breathtaking, he wore a beige suit, was glowing a radiant light, and told him that God loved him and that we should all keep the faith that God would see us through all of this. He went on to tell your father that it wasn't his time yet, and that the neighbors who came out of their house would help him, and that is what they did.

I want you to know that your father described this man for us and your sister drew the picture, and if you were to ever see this man, you must listen to his every word, because he speaks only the truth. Listen to him, darling, and understand that his words will help bring an end to our pain.

Love,

Mother

As Andrew laid the letter aside, Natasha pulled out a worn off white piece of paper, and on this was a shaky drawing of the person her mother had described in her letter.

"I knew there was something familiar about you when you came by yesterday, but after you left, I went through all of the letters my mother had sent me, and found this one. You were there, weren't you?" she asked weakly.

Andrew nodded, and for the first time, he could completely understand why it was that the Father had sent him to her, and not to Marina.

"You would have taken my father to Heaven if his had died?" She asked.

"Yes, I would have, but your father is strong, Natasha, and that strength. God gave it to him, and he, in turn, passed it on to his children. You possess that as well," Andrew said softly.

"I've been harboring all of this stuff I can't control for a long time now, but my mother said that this was something I couldn't change, it was something that I had to cope with as my family is coping with it," Natasha said.

Andrew smiled compassionately at her. "Natasha, your father was so thankful that you are here. He realized from the start that if one of the children could get away from what was happening there, then all the pain and suffering your people endured would not have been in vain."

"Why can't God stop this?" Natasha asked weakly.

"God will not interfere with the human free will," he said softly and looked at Marina. "For this reason, I could not have interfered when you were hurt this morning. It does not mean that I wouldn't want to, but it means that I simply could not."

Marina nodded and looked at Natasha. "You think we need to keep the faith that things will eventually work out for both of us?"

"I think so," Natasha looked at Andrew and the angel nodded.

*~*~*~*~*

It was late in the afternoon when Monica finally managed to get up the stairs to Marina's room. Andrew, and Natasha had left to go downstairs. Natasha had wanted to get some flowers to cheer Marina up a little. She was lying in her bed when the young Irish angel knocked on her door and she was able to beckon her inside.

"Hi, the young girl offered. "Andrew told me a few things when he was here earlier, and I'm sorry I reacted so negatively to what you were trying to tell me."

"Oh Marina, it's OK," Monica said sincerely. "I don't usually expect people to change their ways of thinking simply because I show up. I wanted only to help, and I sense that I failed."

Marina could plainly see the look of sadness that crossed the angel's lovely face. "Please don't think ill of me because I spoke about this in such a harsh manner. You see where I come from, people don't believe in God, at least not usually. Mikhail Sergeevich is helping with the process of free thought, but it will take a great deal of time before this will happen. Perhaps I was a bit presumptuous when I said I had no faith left, maybe I do have a little bit."

Monica smiled weakly, and looked at the girl in the hospital bed. "I suppose there still exists much for me to learn about your culture, and your people."

"Andrew said that God doesn't care where I came from, but what's in my heart, and perhaps that is something close to faith, even if the people in Russia don't always believe it," Marina said softly. "But, you taught me something even more important."

"What is that?" Monica asked softly.

"You taught me through your kindness that maybe I did believe, and maybe that was what made me start asking Andrew all these questions when he came up to see me," Marina said softly. "You guys make a great team."

Monica could feel the tears in her eyes and she glanced skyward. Somehow, she felt that she did somehow lead her assignment to God, but that it had inadvertently taken the scenic route. "I'm so glad, Marina, I didn't want to hurt you with my words."

"You didn't," the young Russian girl smiled. "You gave me your friendship, and I believe that friendship will last forever. You know it the same idea about saving one's smile for those friends they hold dear." She reached for Monica's hand. "Thank you, Monica, for offering me that, and accepting me not as a Russian girl, but as a person of value. That is the greatest gift God could bless me with."

Monica and Marina hugged, and when the embrace loosened, Marina looked at the angel. "Would you do something for me?"

"What is that?"

"Just don't forget that we're friends," Marina said simply.

*~*~*~*~*

The following morning, Marina was released from the hospital. She came down the steps with Robert and Natasha and she carried a smile on her face. "How do you feel, Marina?" One of the reporters who was assembled asked and she looked out and saw a number of press people assembled and waiting for her to emerge.

"I feel like I came here with only a half of myself intact, but I am leaving a whole person," she said softly.

"What's the first thing you plan to do now that you're out of the hospital?"

"I'm going to make a statement at the police against Russell Simms, and then I'm going to go say good-bye to my host family, and will stay with my new friends." She smiled as she reached behind her for Natasha's hand. Once she held it, she gave it a warm squeeze.

Moments later, she turned around and could see that Natasha had a warm smile on her own face, and Marina was left wondering if the thoughts cursing through her friend's mind were the exact same thoughts she had. She could see that the young woman was smiling and she wondered if Natasha too felt as though she had stepped out of a dark room and into the sunshine.

As they made their way towards where Robert's car was in the parking lot, Marina glanced up and could see that Rachel Scott was standing near another group of people, many of them carrying signs which read, 'Stop School Violence'. When Marina's eyes met those of the teacher, she smiled and waved.

Rachel returned the gesture and Marina could see that the teacher appeared to carry a look that was a cross between rugged determination and a quiet reflection of peace.

It came as no surprise that when they all looked up, they could see a dove flying through the trees and disappearing in the distance. It was then that Marina thought of Tess, Monica, and Andrew, and she sent up her first prayer and that was a prayer of thanks.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Reader,

I started writing this story as a piece of fan fiction during the first part of 1999, then I got writer's block and suddenly the idea returned during the last few days and it became a 'Touched By an Angel' story, which actually, as if by the grace of God, saw an eventual conclusion.

This story takes place in the late 80's before the fall of the Berlin Wall, but could only happen due to the programs of Mikhail Gorbachev in the late Soviet era. For this reason, the city's name in the story is Leningrad, and not St Petersburg. The facts contained within it are seldom, but they are from the studies of a writer who does have a Bachelor's degree in Russian Studies, so if something sounds factual about Russian culture, Soviet Politics, or language, then it probably is. :-)

There are also some small details contained here of what it was like for me the first time I met someone from Russia. There is also a very real and factual issue of a Civil War, which is something I learned a great deal about when I was in Moscow during the summer of 1992. My very dear friend, Inna, inspired this story idea, so it is only natural that I dedicate this piece to her, and it in my love for this friend that I write this piece.

Ironically, this is probably the last place I imagined that I could use this knowledge which I obtained through my studies. I must also explain, when Marina spoke with Monica and mentioned Mikhail S. Gorbachev, she referred to him as 'Mikhail Sergeevich' which is a Russian mannerism of respect. There is no really good variation of 'Mr.' or 'Mrs.' actively used in the Russian language, it is in fact a sign of respect to refer to someone with first and middle name, something which in Western Europe and North America is commonly not done.

I hope you enjoyed the story.

God Bless,

Yvette Jessen

Rüsselsheim, Germany

March 31, 2001

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