I wanted to do something, longed to succeed, to make a difference in some tangible way. This was the chance I was looking for. Why not? There was so much promise here. I had no reason to believe I’d find a greater opportunity. And even if it didn’t work out, I could always walk the red road again, couldn’t I? Why hurry? It would still be there tomorrow.

I was tired of dry sandwiches, bean soup, varmint jerky, and raw cucumbers. I was tired of the way my backpack bit into my shoulders, of having to drive on despite all my wounds, tired especially of packing the stones. I felt like a snail, carrying my home on my back. What kind of home was portable, anyway? It felt good to have a door between me and the night. Why should I give it up? Most likely the King was behind it all—maybe he’d prompted David to offer me the position. Yes, I was sure he had.

I walked back to the mansion. Everyone was waiting out back, by the pool.

“What’s your decision?” David asked.

“I’m staying here at Mr. Bartholomew’s.”

The old man’s eyes widened.

“Look, before you preach at me,” I said, feeling my face flush, “I can serve the King anywhere, can’t I? I don’t have to walk the red road.”

I was prepared to argue with Shad, but he hung his head and said nothing. It was Malaiki who opened the TravelGuide and read, “We are aliens, strangers, and pilgrims in this world. It is not our home. Our citizenship is in Charis.”

I looked at Malaiki and Shad and Victoria and then at David. I started to speak, still not sure exactly what to say. I thought a few moments more, and for the first time I quietly talked to the King and considered the words from the book. Then I looked back up, in a surge of clarity. I knew I’d rationalized myself into the easy way out.

“It’s all going to burn,” I said, my voice sounding more certain than I felt. “Perhaps I should go back to the red road. All this is beautiful, but you can’t take it with you.”

“Well, then, I’d better get as much out of it as I can now,” David said with a fixed smile. He waved his hand at us. “Look at you,” he said through his teeth. “You’re homeless. Tramps and bag ladies.”

“Homeless is exactly what we’re not,” Shad said. “We’re away from home, yes, but we are headed there. You too are away from home, but you’re headed nowhere. If you stay here, you’ll not only be homeless, you’ll be worldless. The whole globe is going to burn—the TravelGuide says so. All will be homeless then, except those whose home is in another world.”