"Wheeler – phone."

Kwame entered the communal hut, and smiled at what he saw. Ma-Ti and Wheeler lay on the rug, immersed in a game of Scrabble. Ma-Ti was frowning with concentration, Suchi perched on one shoulder.

"This game is too much like hard work," Wheeler complained, getting up. "Linka, play for me."

The blonde Russian looked up from her notes and smiled. "How do you know I will not sabotage you?"

"You wouldn't do that, babe," said Wheeler confidently. His eyes held hers for a moment, and there was warmth in her expression.

"Fine, Yankee. I'll make you a fantastic word and win you the game."

"That's my girl."

That's my girl. How often had he wanted to say that, and not have her instantly go on the defensive? Now all she did was smile as she settled down on the rug in his place.

"Do you think I'm going to hold out this phone all day?" said Kwame. "My arm is getting tired and I want to pour a drink."

"Sorry, man." Wheeler took the receiver. "Hello?"

"Jay." The voice on the other end was weak. Wheeler's smile disappeared, and he quickly left the hut to talk outside.

"Mom?"

Through the window he could see Kwame laughing at something Gi had said.

"Jacob, when are you going to come home?"

"Mom, I told you …" Wheeler turned his back to the windows and lowered his voice. "I can't right now."

"But Jay, you have to come back. I don't know how long he's …"

"I'll call you later, Mom," Wheeler said quickly, then paused. "Are you okay?"

Silence on the other end.

"Mom?"

"I need you to come back. I can't do this on my own."

Wheeler heard a faint noise behind him, and turned around. Gi was walking towards him with a glass of juice.

"I'll call you tonight. Gotta go."

He clicked the phone off, and summoned up a smile for his friend.

"Hey! Great service around here. Cute waitresses, too."

"Yeah, sure." Gi punched him lightly on the arm. "Your favourite cute waitress just won you your game."

"Seriously? That's great. I can't imagine Ma-Ti's too pleased, though."

"No – especially since the winning word was 'quirky' on a double word score." Gi laughed. "Who was that?"

"Oh … just my Mom." They started walking back towards the hut.

"She's been calling a lot lately. Everything okay?"

"Oh yeah." Wheeler smiled, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"Your Dad?"

"Fine."

Gi examined her friend's profile. His jaw was set in that stubborn look she knew so well. She would get nothing more out of him at the moment, and knew better than to try.

"All right. So long as you're sure."

They went back inside. Linka was still supine on the rug, her long legs stretched out behind her. She shot Wheeler a laughing glance.

"Did you hear the news, Yankee?"

"I sure did!" He crouched down beside her, relishing her nearness and the elusive floral scent of her hair. "Nice work. We make a good team."

"Da. We do."

Wheeler straightened up and stretched out his hand to help her stand. She stayed within the circle of his arms for a moment longer than was necessary, and her fingers lingered within his. She reached up and felt the curl of his dark red hair on his shirt collar.

"You need a haircut."

"I always need a haircut. It's my trademark. Gives you something to run your fingers through."

Linka tugged on a strand of hair. "Don't be so …"

"What? Confident? Disarmingly honest? Magnetic?"

"Not the words I was looking for."

"Your winning word then. Quirky."

"Da, that seems appropriate."

"Are you eating lunch or not?" said Gi in her bossiest tone. She was tossing her special-recipe dressing into a green salad.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming." Wheeler smiled down into Linka's eyes.

Later, babe. You just wait. You, me, a bottle of wine and a black-and-white movie.

She smiled back. Sometimes Wheeler could swear she had Ma-Ti's powers of perception. Linka would have been amused to know this – he didn't know how readily his face betrayed his thoughts. It was one of the things she loved about him. Wheeler was many things, but he would never be untrustworthy or secretive. It just wasn't in his nature.

"Who was on the phone, Wheeler?" she asked.

"Uh …my Mom. Just checking in, you know how it is."

They sat on the benches that lined the long table. Gi had finished with the dressing and was fussing over the bread rolls.

"How is she?"

"Good, good, as always." Wheeler avoided her eye. "Hey, Gi, this is really good."

"Of course it is." Gi tossed her hair, laughing.

XXXXXXX

Linka climbed into bed, exhausted and happy. It was well after midnight – she and Wheeler had stayed up after the others watching Casablanca. The romantic atmosphere was only slightly marred by Wheeler's need to say everything in a Humphrey Bogart voice.

She tied up her hair in a long braid and pulled the covers up, snuggling down into the pillow. This was her favourite part of the night – going over the evening in her head before she went to sleep. Smiling, she closed her eyes.

"Psst!"

She sighed and turned her head slightly, on the edge of sleep.

"Pssssst!" The noise was louder, and more insistent. Linka opened her eyes and yawned.

A soft knock on the door.

"Bozhe moy," Linka grumbled as she swung her legs out of bed. "Don't tell me there's an eco-emergency now! Kwame, if that's you, it can wait till morning."

She opened the door to find a familiar tall form silhouetted against the moonlight. She couldn't see Wheeler's face but she could hear the sheepish grin in his voice.

"Um … hi."

"Yankee!" Linka tried to sound stern. "What are you doing? It is the middle of the night!"

"But you only went to bed five minutes ago!"

"That is not the point. This is my bedroom. Go find your own." She turned to go back inside.

"Linka."

She paused. There was a plea in his voice.

"Could I come in for just a minute? No fooling around, I promise. I just don't want to be on my own just yet."

Linka looked searchingly at him – a pointless exercise since she couldn't make out his face.

"Okay, Yankee," she decided. "For a few minutes."

Wheeler couldn't help smiling as he followed Linka in. Sometimes he quite enjoyed her prudish streak. Of course, sometimes he also found it unbelievably frustrating.

Linka turned on her lamp and rubbed her eyes.

"That is so bright! Here." She tossed him a cushion. "Sit on this."

Wheeler settled himself on the ridiculously small cushion. Silk and embroidered with tiny hummingbirds, it was a birthday present Gi had bought for her friend in Japan. Linka smiled at the sight of the tall American trying to make himself comfortable. Finally he sat still, his knees drawn up under his chin.

"Is something the matter, Wheeler?"

Wheeler looked down. The lamplight cast a shadow on his eyes. He traced a pattern on the cushion with one finger. "No."

Linka raised an eyebrow. Fine. He was hopeless at keeping secrets. Sooner or later he would cave in and confess.

"Then you won't mind if I get back into bed." She climbed between the covers again and rested her head on the pillow.

Wheeler smiled. "You look too cute…"

Linka raised a warning finger. "No closer, Yankee!"

"Fine." He reached for the pile of books sitting at her bedside and started to rifle through. "Geez … you really don't believe in light reading, do you?"

Linka watched his eyes as he read. Their usual startling blueness was shaded to a deep grey in the dim light. He reached up a hand to brush a strand of hair out of his face, and she admired the strength of his tanned arm. He glanced up at her, his eyes mischievous, and she blushed.

"Well, I am not going to sit here watching you play with my things," she said loftily. "I am going to sleep. Turn the light off when you leave. And don't do anything bad!"

Wheeler opened his mouth to make a dirty remark, then thought better of it. The Russian had too many cushions that could be used as ammunition.

"So it's okay if I just sit here for a while?"

"Yes, it's okay." Linka rolled over and faced the wall. Wheeler smiled at her back.

"Thanks, babe."

XXXXXXX

At quarter to three, Wheeler awoke with a start. His cellphone was blinking at him in the darkness. Six voicemail messages! Thank God he had it on silent. Stretching his cramped limbs he reached out for the lamp switch. Just before he turned it off, he looked at Linka. Her cheeks flushed with sleep, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with each quiet breath. He bent down and lightly brushed her cheek with his lips. She murmured softly.

"Night, hon."

Wheeler clicked off the light and made his way to the door. Hope Island was illuminated by an eerie half-moon that made the palm trees seem silvery and ethereal. He could hear crickets, and beyond them, the gentle roll and splash of waves breaking on the beach.

Six messages.

Should he listen to them?

He took out his phone again.

It wouldn't hurt to listen to one. After all, they'll just be the same old thing, right?

He raised it to his ear.

A few minutes later, Wheeler was still standing there. His body was tensed. Then, without a sound, he spun round and headed for his bedroom. He pulled out a bag, tossed it onto the bed and started to fill it. When it was stuffed full of clothes, he sat at his desk and wrote a note on a piece of paper. He made his way to Kwame's hut, and slid the paper under the door.

"Sorry guys," he muttered as he made his way to the Geocruiser. "I'll bring it back."

XXXXXXX

In her sleep, Linka tossed her head and said something incoherent. Her hand opened and closed as if she was trying to grasp something – but then she lay silent and still once more.