"I'll be ready," Jill answered, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. "What's his name, just so I'm prepared?"

  "Mark Jackson," Chloe said. "I bet he'll be weirder than all the others combined, knowing our luck."

  Weirder? Yes.

  That was what Jill was thinking an hour into the meal, after she and Chloe had cleared away the main dishes while Stephen had practically guffawed at some of Mark Jackson's more colorful stories from all the places he'd been all over the world.

  She'd done an Internet search on him at the church, and unlike all the others who she'd had to entertain alongside the Hayes family, there was nothing on him out there. Absolutely nothing.

  She'd expected any number of reasons for this, the more pessimistic being that he hadn't done anything worthwhile in ministry or that he was so old that having an online presence was foreign to him.

  Neither was true.

  He was younger than she expected. Her age, maybe a few years older. Reasonably attractive. Single.

  She'd shot Chloe a reprimanding look at this, guessing that this was another setup, but Chloe had shaken her head.

  Apparently, she didn't know anything about him either.

  But as they brought dessert and coffee back out to the men and Chloe sat down across from him, it was clear that all she had learned had endeared him to her.

  He had that kind of personality.

  "So, you're with the personnel department of the board," she said. "Get to see it all. How exciting."

  "It has been," he grinned. "But the last few years, they've transitioned me to full focus in just one region. Times are changing across the denomination, and it affects the mission field. We're putting more resources into the most dire situations, the most difficult areas."

  Jill had seen the numbers at church and knew that, yes, things were changing. River Fellowship wasn't the only church in decline.

  Hard times in the world. Although historically, hard times in cultures brought people closer to God. Prosperous times created another stumbling block for people to seek Him.

  If you had plenty, you didn't find yourself needing Him. Americans had more than plenty. Perhaps that's why they didn't think they needed Him anymore. Feast or famine, no in between, and Jill had wondered more than once in this faith journey of hers if being forced into dire conditions and troubling circumstances would be the catalyst to bring people to God, on their knees, asking for His presence.

  "Where have they sent you?" Stephen asked.

  "Home," Mark smiled. "As it turns out, the church is declining in America, but in the Middle East, it's exploding." He grinned even more broadly. "Which is a bad choice of words, actually. Middle East. Explosions." He made the sound of a bomb detonating, holding his hands out to demonstrate total annihilation.

  Hmm.

  "Growing," he continued on. "Disciples being made, lives being changed, all under the radar as people are suffering, there's war, it's a very needy place...but home."

  "Home?" Chloe asked.

  "Yes," he said. "I was born overseas. My parents are missionaries. So, the board sends me to the Persian Gulf, and I can deal. They try to keep me here, though, and it's like I've woken up on another planet, quite honestly."

  "Why are you here now, then," Jill asked, "if you're usually on the field?"

  "The board brought me back for some... meetings."

  Vague, this.

  But who honestly cared? Not Jill. She was just making small talk, counting the minutes until she could get out of here.

  "And the president of the convention sent Mark here first to see what we're experiencing stateside in terms of international population growth," Stephen added. "For those missionaries who are coming back stateside because funds couldn't keep them on the field, we're hopeful that we'll be able to utilize their skills all over the country in urban areas that are seeing higher levels of immigration."

  "Yes," Mark nodded. "Research. And Paul Connor." At this, he laughed out loud. "Paul Connor."

  Jill had no idea who Paul Connor even was.

  "He's the president of the convention, Jill," he said, hearing the question she hadn't voiced.

  "Oh, well, that's nice."

  Who cared?

  "But all that aside, the real reason I'm stateside is because my niece is getting married," he answered. "And it's a special time in every girl's life, you know. A time when she really needs her crazy, Arabic-speaking uncle around."

  "Oh, such a special time," Chloe sighed, smiling.

  "Yes," Mark grinned. "Moved the wedding up because who knows when I'll be back. And, in a really crazy twist of fate, my niece is marrying the brother of the guy who was the associate pastor of this church, years ago."

  "Really?" Jill asked, thinking that she honestly didn't give one flying flip how all these people were connected.

  "It's a small, small world," Mark sang. "Oh, and that reminds me, Jill. We are totally going to Walt Disney World. So we can look into research, you know. International presence in Central Florida. That and I've never been before."

  Wait. What?

  "Why would I take you to Walt Disney World?" she asked, thinking that she hadn't agreed to anything, hadn't been informed of anything...

  "We're going to be out," Chloe said apologetically. "A state convention meeting starting tomorrow then through the rest of this week. And you're the only non-ministerial staff member who can be away from the church for a few days. Help Mark out and all. We didn’t think you’d mind."

  She could see the unspoken apology on Chloe’s face. Recent news to her, too, likely after this morning’s phone call.

  Great.

  Mark grinned at her.

  Just great.

  How could she graciously refuse this, tell them all that she had work, that she didn't want to spend the day at a theme park with this guy --

  "It's going to be so much fun," Mark said. "Is tomorrow good for you?"

  She glanced over at Stephen and Chloe both, thinking through all that she had to get done at the office, noting the expectation in their eyes that she would help them out in this.

  Fine. Fine, then.

  "Tomorrow will work out just fine," she managed.

  She tried to convince him to meet her at the park, but he wouldn't hear of it. They could drive there together in one car. She tried to convince him to meet her at the church, but he wouldn't hear of that either. He could pick her up at her front door like a gentleman.

  This gave her thirty minutes to sleep in, at least. She was going to need every last second of rest, likely, given the never ending energy he was already exuding as she opened the door up to him that morning.

  "Park hopper," he said.

  "Is that how they say good morning in... well, wherever you're from?" she managed, turning from him and locking up her door.

  "No, that's 'Saba il khayr,'" he said, "to which you would respond 'Saba in noor.' Go on, try it."

  "Saba in...noor."

  "Yes, but no. Park hopper, Jill."

  And in his hand, he held up two cards.

  "You've already got the tickets?" she asked, recognizing the characters on the cards, remembering the last time she'd been to the park.

  Almost eight years ago, before life had changed, when her sister and her family had come out to visit. Jill had taken her niece, Summer, to meet princesses. They'd spent the day making memories Jill would never forget, a four year old and her aunt. She'd convinced her sister to let Summer stay at the house that night, and when they'd arrived back late, with her niece in her arms, there had been someone else waiting there as well.

  A man. A man she wasn't very serious about by any means, but a man she was serious enough about to let into the house, to let into her room, long after she'd tucked her niece in.

  He'd spent the night and been there when Jill's sister had showed up the next day.

  There had been a falling out afterwards. A lot of words about judgment and lifestyles, choices and decency. As if her sister had been one to talk anyway, like she was perfect, and Jill had relished the opportunity to list all of her failings.

  They'd left that morning angry with her. The whole family. And when Jill's life had changed, she'd reached out to them, to reconcile, to make amends...

  But they didn't know how to deal with her, with this change in her.

  "Like one extreme to the other," her sister had seethed on the end of the phone line. "There's a happy medium, Jill. And I don't want Summer becoming a slut like you, but I think I’d prefer that over her becoming a church hypocrite. I know what you're like."

  She did. She had.

  Jill hadn't spoken to them since.

  "I do already have the tickets," Mark grinned.

  "What do I owe you?" she asked him, moving past the memories.

  "You owe me nothing," he said, walking her over to the rental car the mission board had arranged for him.

  A big, yellow Jeep. With the top off. And the... the doors off.

  "This is what you're driving?" she asked, her hands already going to her hair, just imagining what she'd look like once they got to the Magic Kingdom.

  "Isn't it awesome?" he gushed. "The board put in for me to have an SUV, thought I'd appreciate a big car. But I travel light. And this weather? Topless, all the way."

  "It rains every day here," she said, thinking of how impractical his choice had been.

  "Already caught onto that," he said. "Which is why there are towels in the backseat. Checked the insurance coverage, and as it turns out, water damage isn't even an issue because those seats are made for it. Doesn't mean I want a wet backside all day long or that you would want one either. Hence the need for towels."

  That explained that.

  "We can take my car and save ourselves the trouble," she said.

  "No trouble at all," he assured her, holding up the passes again. "And did I already mention, park hopper?"

  "Yes, so you did," she said. "What does that even mean? It's been a while since I've been to the parks, so refresh my memory."

  "This ticket," he said, handing it to her, as he stood by the side of the Jeep helping her climb into the passenger seat (he likely would have opened the door had he left that on and all), "will get us into all four parks."

  "We just have to pick one, then?" she asked, looking at it as he walked around the front of the Jeep, pulling himself up into the driver's seat.

  "No," he said, starting it up and pulling onto the street. "It means we can hit all four parks. One day, four parks, BAM. Get it done."

  She looked over at him. "That's going to make for a very long day."

  "I sure hope so," he said, grinning.

  Great. All day with this freak.

  As he picked up speed and the wind began to war with her hair, she reached down into her purse for a tie, pulled it all back and managed a messy bun. Except for that one strand that kept whipping her in the face.

  He smiled over at her as she struggled to get it all into place.

  "Must have been expensive," she said, trying in vain to get her hair to cooperate. "Seriously, what do I owe you?"

  "Nothing," he swore, signaling to get on the toll road. "I owe you, actually."

  Oh, good grief. The toll road. She needed a helmet, not a hair tie.

  "Why do you owe me?" she asked, just settling for her hands on her head, keeping the hair down as best as she could.

  "Because you," he said, pushing his shades down onto his face, "are getting me out of all kinds of meetings and schmooze fests that I would rather skip. I'm happy to do the research while I'm stateside, but I can't take too many meetings with Paul Connor. And if you hadn't asked me to take you to Walt Disney World, I would've been obligated to let him determine my schedule, and he would have had me at the state convention alongside all of his other goons."

  So much information. Where to even start?

  "I didn't ask you to take me anywhere," she said.

  "Yeah, you did," he said dismissively. "And I owe you for it. For offering to help me out with my research. By meeting some of the international population here in Central Florida."

  "I didn't offer to --"

  And at this, she stopped talking. He'd said what he said so that he'd have a reason not to go to that meeting. Because he'd asked her outright, Stephen, who was River Fellowship, had deemed it important enough to constitute as official business. And because it was official business, it kept him out of a meeting.

  If Paul Connor protested (which he may well have), Mark could tell him that he'd had someone offer to help him with that research and all. Who would pass that up?

  She'd helped him... by not doing anything but agreeing, albeit begrudgingly, to take the day with him.

  "Okay," she said. "You owe me." Then, narrowing her eyes at him, "Though it feels deceptive, claiming that this is work."

  "Oh, but we'll get work done," he said. "You'll see."

  And what did that mean?

  "You're a little weird, you know that?" she asked, realizing only a moment later that she should have censored herself.

  He glanced over at her with a grin. She would have loved to have seen the look in his eyes, given this observation, but his shades kept her from it.

  Didn't keep him from seeing all of her, though.

  "Wow, you have a lot of hair," he observed, still grinning.

  By the time she thought of a rebuttal to that, the car had gained enough speed that the wind made it impossible for him to hear her anyway.

  It was empty.

  Well, not literally. The parks were never empty, not by a long shot. But there were seasons where attendance was lower than normal, making the parks seem a lot more manageable and less crowded, and they'd just happened upon the right season on this visit.

  It felt empty in some places.

  It made the wait times shorter for all the rides Mark insisted on riding, and he insisted on riding them all. In and out of spaceships, boats, flying elephants, logs, and runaway trains, on and on as the morning flew by.

  People kept congratulating them. From the moment Mark had stepped out of the visitor's center where he went to go and ask when the 3pm parade would start (yes, seriously), everyone had been congratulating the two of them.

  What in the world?

  Jill had wondered over the oddity of it as all morning long, cast members would smile at Mark, tell him congratulations, and then, in an even weirder turn of events, do their best to put the two of them on a ride all by themselves.

  "That's just bizarre," Jill said, as the cast member directed the two of them to the last row on an empty Small World boat. "Why are we on this ride by ourselves?"

  "Thank you," Mark said to the cast member who gave him yet another congratulations.

  "Is park attendance just that low?" she kept wondering.

  "Maybe," Mark said, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the empty seat back in front of them. "I'd just lean back and enjoy it. All to ourselves, no crying kids, no annoying singing..."

  Except for the dolls, of course.

  They weren't even halfway into the first room before the song started grating on her nerves.

  "Oh, wow, that's creepy," she muttered, not remembering this ride from the trip she'd taken with Summer. It had been under refurbishment. What a shame.

  Or not.

  "There have to be hundreds of them," Mark said, as all the dolls screeched at him, dancing around in their little costumes, blinking their scary eyes, and being just overall horrifying.

  "Who would think this is cute?" she asked, honestly wondering it.

  She looked over at him and watched him nod his head in time with the music, moving his arms around as though he was directing the pageantry, like some conductor.

  "I've been there," he said, pointing to the French dolls. "Speak a little French, too. I'll be happy to demonstrate."

  "I'm good," she murmured, leaning back. "Thanks."

  "Pity that," he sighed. "Because I'm all kinds of cute when I'm speaking French. Or so I'm told."

  She gave him a look. He raised his eyebrows. "What?"

  "Who told you that you were cute?"

  "Well, no one," he shrugged. "But I assume, right?"

  Weirdest missionary ever.