— Deuteronomy 4:29

Wakeman shivered a bit against the cold as he and Stuart walked around the spacious grounds of Robert Bailey’s homestead late Sunday morning. His breath was visible and his nose felt a little numb after only a few minutes outside, but the sun was shining and the chilly air refreshed and cheered him following his awkward confrontation with the home owner.

So, Wakeman zipped up his coat a little further and sank his hands deeper into his pockets as they chatted. He did most of the talking at first while they walked slow circuits around the large house, creating a deeper, wider trail in the snow with each pass.

Wakeman told Stuart about the wild ride from his apartment, how he and the Morelands were followed and eventually cornered by a man who fired several shots at the car — none of which punctured the windows or doors. He noted Elizabeth’s skillful driving and the couple’s odd sense of calm while it all happened.

“I’ve never seen a miracle before this morning, but there’s no other way to explain what happened,” Wakeman said, looking down at his feet, still feeling the surreal effects from the day’s events.

Stuart laughed. “I suspect you’ll see many more in the future. I’ve seen more than I can count. But I’m getting ahead of myself. When did you first start seeing symbols on people’s hands?”

Wakeman turned to Stuart. Were they going to finally lay all of their cards on the table? He suspected that Stuart might show part of his hand, but not all of it. 

Still, he was hungry for answers and every morsel that Stuart tossed his way would be eagerly gobbled up.

So, Wakeman gave him the Cliffs Notes version of his background, beginning at the point in his youth when an invitation to a church service led to him seeing the strange and frightening marks on the parishioners hands for the first time. He was so scared that he ran out of the service and didn’t set foot inside a church for a long time after that.

“But I wanted answers …

needed answers,” he said. “I’ve long since decided that the symbols are real, that they are important somehow. And I also sense that they are not evil. One of my biggest questions has always been why my hands — and those of my sister — are bare.”

Wakeman pulled his hands out of his coat pockets and looked at them, almost as if he needed to see them one more time in order to believe it.

They were still blank.

Stuart listened closely, nodding several times, but didn’t say much as Wakeman continued his story.

“I’ll be honest, Stuart, I’ve spent a lot of time in churches since then, but I’ve never really been interested in God … only the answers to why this is happening to me.”

“Then why have you sought out churches?” Stuart asked. “You can just as easily see the symbols while at work or shopping at the mall. Right?”

“Because I think He has the answers.”

Stuart’s tone had steadily changed from merely conversational to lightly confrontational.

“But why should God give you the answers you’re looking for when you’re not interested in Him?”

Wakeman didn’t have a reply for that. He never really thought of it that way. He merely shrugged his shoulders in response.

Stuart softened his tone. “Please, continue your story.”

Wakeman skipped some parts — especially where he had fallen in with a bad crowd and also the terrible accident that put him on the run from authorities and eventually drove him to Duluth. He knew somehow that he would eventually bare these things to Stuart, but he sensed that now was not the time. He felt comfortable enough with Stuart, however, to mention how he panicked and ran out of a local church service the previous Sunday.

When Wakeman was finished, Stuart stopped walking and looked away for several seconds. They had just finished their sixth or seventh lap around the Robert Bailey manor. Wakeman lost count.

“Well, here we are at a sort of crossroads,” Stuart finally said, still looking gazing into the distance. “You want to know the answers to many strange and wonderful things, but you can’t know the answers until you begin a relationship with the One who has set this all into motion.”

“God?”

“Yes.”

Now it was Wakeman’s turn to pause and look away. He had come a long way in his search for the truth behind the hand symbols, and if the only way to obtain that truth was to get to know God, then he could at least give it a try.

“Stuart, I’m willing to do

whatever it takes to get the answers I need,” Wakeman said.

“Ha, ha — now you’re talking!” Stuart slapped Wakeman heartily on the back and talked so loudly that he thought everyone in the house would hear it.

“So, what’s the next step?”

“That’s an easy one — Bible study — lots and lots of Bible study. 

Wakeman, my good man, you’re about to get a crash course in the Old and New Testaments. We’ll start today, right after Mrs. Bailey serves us a delicious Sunday meal big enough to feed half of Duluth. You’ll love her cooking, and that’s a good thing, because you’re going to be eating a lot of it for a while.”

“Uh, what is that supposed to mean?” Wakeman asked timidly. He didn’t like the idea of spending any more time with Robert Bailey than he had to, although his wife seemed very kind and wouldn’t let him leave the house for his chat with Stuart without eating at least a couple of cinnamon rolls and downing a cup of black coffee.

“After this morning’s little adventure, it’s obvious to us that someone doesn’t want you joining our little club,” Stuart motioned toward the guards positioned at the head of Robert’s driveway. 

“That’s why we’re careful about everything. We need to protect you, and I can’t think of a better place for you to hide out than Robert’s home. Why, he has so many rooms in this place that he hasn’t been in all of them yet.”

“Stuart, the man nearly booted me out of here a few minutes ago … now you want me to live with him?” Wakeman protested.

“It’s already been approved by the group — and Robert, too,” Stuart replied. “He may not apologize himself, but let me apologize for his behavior this morning.”

They resumed their current lap as snow crunched lightly beneath their feet. The sound reminded Wakeman of being a child, playing in the snow and making snow angels with his sister and best friend, Tate Saunders, in their yards.

“Robert is a good guy, deep down. He just gets nervous about things and tends to err on the side of caution, while I’m more apt to go with my gut. The good thing is that the Lord uses both styles to get His work done, even if we do butt heads from time to time.”

“No need to apologize, Stuart. I’m just looking for answers, but please tell me that he won’t stand in the way of me eventually finding those answers.”

Stuart laughed again. “No. Robert isn’t anything to worry about. 

He’ll come around eventually, but that won’t stop him from watching you like a hawk until he does.”

“Great. I trade one set of spying eyes for another?”

“I think your time together will be good for both of you. You’ll see. Now, let’s head back inside where it’s warm and see what Mrs. 

Bailey is cooking up.”

Stuart sped up as they approached the driveway. But Wakeman paused for a moment. He hadn’t received so much as a nugget of information about Soul Scouts, and he wanted something to cling to as he took up residence in the Bailey house.

“Stuart, what are Soul Scouts?” Wakeman called ahead.

Stuart stopped, turned around and smiled.

“You could say that we’re part interpreters, part messengers.”