Free The Scent of Rain by Kristin Billerbeck Page A

have the slightest ability to discern people. She trusted everyone until they burned her . . . a few hundred times. It was time for her to leave that kind of innocence behind. Until she learned more, she wasn’t going to take sides.
    The door was yanked open, and Kensie stuck her head back into the lab. “You coming or not?”
    â€œYeah, I’ll be right there.”
    Willard put down a pipette and ambled toward her. When he reached her, he stopped and pulled off his safety glasses. Misty gray, middle-aged eyes narrowed to focus on her, and she swallowed hard under his scrutiny.
    â€œGo back to Paris, young lady. Or wherever it is you came from.”
    John shifted his weight. “Willard, don’t say that. She’ll think we don’t want her here.”
    John gazed right at her with his intense eyes, and she wondered how a man with that much charisma had settled into a life of science. “We do want you here,” he said. “Dave was very excited about a real nose on staff.”
    â€œIt’s for her own good,” Willard said and turned his attention back to Daphne. “Go back to Paris.”
    With his gloved hand, John grabbed her and pulled her toward his station. “Come here, I want you to smell something.”
    Her heart pounded and she tugged her hand, but he didn’t relinquish his grasp. “Kensie’s waiting for me.” She pointed toward the window to the hallway.
    â€œI want to show you something first. Right now Gibraltar is living off royalties from our home dry-cleaning agents, but I think I may have something here.” He let go of her hand and lifted a beaker to her nose. “Here, smell.”
    She sniffed but had no idea what her reaction should be. Should she be sickened or enthralled? “I, uh—wow.”
    â€œWow, good?” he asked.
    â€œWhat’s it for?”
    His enthusiasm diminished. “Can’t you tell?”
    Her stomach swirled. “I—I’m getting used to all the new sights and sounds of Ohio. I think my sniffer’s off. Nerves, you know?”
    He set the beaker down. “I understand. I want you to come back and let me know, though, because the formulation is proved, tried and true, but I don’t feel we ever had the scent right. New and improved packaging could remind consumers what it is they love about the product.”
    Daphne had no idea what John was talking about, but she admired his enthusiasm and his implicit trust in her. She felt like Humpty Dumpty, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put her back together again. Part of her was left in Paris, another portion in Switzerland, and her heart? That she’d truly left in San Francisco, and with a man who’d never wanted it in the first place. The way John embraced her opinions as if they mattered so deeply created a sense of unworthiness in her. She felt like such a fraud. The great nose who couldn’t smell a thing.
    Closure and healing .
    Closure and healing .
    That would be her mantra until her sense of smell returned. Until Paris called. She’d find a new ministry at a new church and that would take her mind off her problems. No one ever got better by focusing on life’s traumas. And she really had nowhere to run. Her parents didn’t want her home. Sophie was getting married. And Paris was only a distant memory until she could prove to Arnaud that she was worthy of his loyalty and she wouldn’t leave again. If only she’d placed that loyalty with her mentor rather than the young and charismatic Mark Goodsmith, she wouldn’t be in this mess out in the wilderness of Ohio.
    â€œIf you don’t like it, you can tell me,” John said.
    â€œIt’s not that, John. It really is as I said. Nerves. Maybe I’m getting the rumblings of a cold from traveling. I’m going to see a doctor tonight. I promise, the minute I can distinguish one note from