Reunited After 25 Years 4: Harassed

Saturday morning Andrea and Denny arrived at Anton's motel room, having planned to spend the day with Anton and Darya. Andrea parked the car and went to ring the doorbell. Anton answered the door with a big smile.

"Andrea, Denny, come in, come in. Darya will be ready in a few minutes," he said.

"Nice place you have here," Denny said, looking around. His eyes lit up as he saw Darya emerge from her bedroom.

"Hi, I'm Denny," he said with a big grin.

"Darya." She smiled a little shyly as she shook his hand.

"Are we all ready to go, then?" asked Anton.

"I guess we are," said Andrea. She drove to the mall, where Anton and Denny immediately headed for the electronics department and Andrea and Darya went to look at clothes. Having never had a daughter, it was a relatively new experience for Andrea.

"I used to love to go clothes shopping with my mother before she got sick," said Darya.

"That must have been a terrible time for you," Andrea said softly.

"Oh, it was! I was only nine or ten when she got sick, twelve when she died. All her hair fell out and the chemotherapy stopped working. I don't know who took it harder, me or my father. I never saw him cry before until she died, then he cried and cried. They were always so close, loved each other so much. After that happened I thought I would never see him smile again. For six years it was like that, and then guess what? One day I saw him, and he looked happy. 'I'm going back to the United States,' he told me. 'I no longer need an exit visa so now I can go. My friend, maybe she will still be there.' 'What friend?' I asked him. 'Her name is Andrea,' he said. 'It was a long time ago when I met her but I never forgot her.' "

Andrea smiled. "What was your mother like, Darya?"

"Oh, she was a wonderful lady. Very pretty, very kind. We were always a happy family, me, Papa, and Mama. I thought it would be like that always."

Andrea had to swallow a lump in her throat.

"Your son is a very nice young man. Is he like his father?"

"I suppose he is in some ways. Denny never knew his father, Darya. He was killed in the Vietnam War before Denny was even born."

"Vietnam. I learned about it in school," Darya said thoughtfully. "Many Americans were killed, right?"

"Far too many," Andrea said softly.

"It's very sad," Darya said sympathetically.

After reuniting with Anton and Denny, they went to a fast food restaurant for lunch and then headed for the beach. For several hours everything was fine. They looked for seashells, went swimming, and lay in the sun. Then Andrea and Darya walked to a nearby convenience store for drinks while Anton and Denny were still swimming.

A group of unkempt young men were in the next aisle over from Andrea and Darya in the store, listening to them talk and laughing loudly. Suddenly one of them sauntered over to Darya with a smirk on his face.

"I love your accent. What country are you from, hon?" he asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Darya asked warily.

"I'll bet you're a hot Russian babe, aren't you?" His grin widened.

"If you don't leave her alone right now I'm calling the cops!" Andrea said furiously.

"Whatever you say, lady." The young man shrugged nonchalantly and rejoined his friends. Darya shot Andrea a grateful look and they hurriedly returned to the beach. By the time they got back, Anton and Denny had finished swimming and were standing on the shore drying off.

Anton saw the look on his daughter's face. "Are you all right, Dasha?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Papa," Darya said with a smile.

"I thought your name was Darya." Denny was confused.

"Dasha's my nickname," Darya explained.

"Oh." Denny grinned. "Just like Denny's my nickname. My real name's Dennis, after my father."

"Denis is a common name in my country as well," said Darya.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" asked Denny.

"Sure." Denny took Darya's hand and they began to walk along the beach. Andrea watched them go, feeling just a little bit sad.

"Anton?" She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed Anton smiling and holding his hand out to her.

"Oh, sorry!" she laughed as she took his hand and they fell into step behind the younger couple.

"Why so quiet?" asked Anton.

Andrea sighed. "It's just that watching our children walk along the beach takes me right back to that day so long ago when you and I walked along the same beach." The waves made a gentle slurping sound as they lapped at the shore, almost but not quite touching Anton's and Andrea's feet. The sand squished gently between their toes. Andrea remembered Darya telling her of the love her parents had shared and felt a deep ache inside that she didn't know how to express.