The Scent of Rain
Acclaim for
Kristin Billerbeck
A Billion Reasons Why
“Katie and Luc dance off the pages of this book, making you fall in love with them and New Orleans. A nostalgic trip full of surprises and romance.”
â Carolyne Aarsen, author of
The Baby Promise
“A sparkling and lively romance . . . featuring the spunkiest heroine of the year!”
â Denise Hunter, bestselling author of
Convenient Groom
“
A Billion Reasons Why
is a fun, sophisticated romance with Kristin Billerbeck's unique voice and quirky characters. I loved it!”
â Colleen Coble, author of
Lonestar Homecoming
and the Mercy Falls series
She's All That
“Snappy dialogue and lovable characters make this novel a winner.”
â
Publishers Weekly
“Settle in for madcap fun that leaves the reader wanting more.”
â
Romantic Times
Perfectly Dateless
“[W]itty musings and snappy dialogue.”
â
Booklist
“Christy Award finalist Billerbeck turns her talent for witty dialog to the YA market . . . [a] hilarious novel.”
â
Library Journal
The Scent of Rain
Also by Kristin Billerbeck
A Billion Reasons Why
Split Ends
T
HE
A
SHLEY
S
TOCKINGDALE
N
OVELS
What a Girl Wants
She's Out of Control
With This Ring, I'm Confused
T
HE
S
PA
G
IRLS
S
ERIES
She's All That
A Girl's Best Friend
Calm, Cool, and Adjusted
The Scent of Rain
Kristin Billerbeck
© 2012 by Kristin Billerbeck
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherâexcept for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Scriptures taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION
®
, NIV
®
. © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.⢠Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com.
The author is represented by the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.
www.alivecommunications.com
.
Publisher's Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Billerbeck, Kristin.
  The scent of rain / Kristin Billerbeck.
      p. cm.
  ISBN 978-1-4016-8565-2 (trade paper)
  I. Title.
  PS3602.I44S34 2012
  813'.54âdc23
2012014942
Printed in the United States of America
12 13 14 15 16 QG 6 5 4 3 2 1
To my brother Gary Compani
Contents
D
aphne Sweeten's knees buckled beneath her, but Sophie, her maid of honor, kept her from reaching the marble floor. She straightened and stared into her best friend's eyes, which were softened in pity.
“He's not coming?” Daphne mouthed the words. As she searched the vast gothic church in front of her, the crowd stared back. The rows reserved for the groom's family were empty. “They knew,” she murmured.
Sophie nodded and pulled the bouquet from Daphne's clenched hands. “Let's go.” Sophie caught hold of her elbow, but Daphne couldn't take her eyes off the long aisle that she wouldn't be walking down. “Daphne, come on.”
She should be fleeing in humiliation. All those faces, familiar and foreign, had her in their scope. But something kept her there. Her feet remained firmly planted as she registered the peppery scent of freesias and the slightly musty smell of the rental runway carpet. She turned to Sophie, ringed by the rest of her bridesmaids.
“Where's my father?”
At the distant opposite end of the white carpet, the Reverend Riley stood alone at the altar. He cleared his throat as though preparing to make some kind of announcement, and Daphne held her breath. If she allowed so much as a tiny sob to escape, she would echo like a Swiss yodeler in the cavernous cathedral. But what was the point of saving face now? She may as well take it all in or she might miss something, and then how would she ever fix it?
“Daphne, let's go,” Sophie whispered as she tugged at her arm.
Resistance was futile. Daphne followed Sophie out of the great double doors, turning one last time to face the altar under its three grand stained-glass windows, littered with white rose petals and dotted with violets. The altar was like the end of a rainbow, a destination she'd never reach, and the petals were like the remnants of her heart. Mark wouldn't be back.
“That was my wedding day.”
“You're scaring me. Let's get in the limo.”
“Did you see his side of the church? No one was there. He knew he wasn't coming! Why did he bother to rehearse last night?”
“I don't know, Daphne.”
She allowed herself to be led outside the church, which stood atop Nob Hill in San Francisco. It was an idyllic June day, no fog. Probably a bad omen. A light breeze and pure California sunshine marked the day, mocking her in its perfection. The steps between her and the limo appeared endless, and she wondered if her legs would carry her the distance.
“Why did you just stand there forever?”
Daphne looked down at her gown and shrugged. “I'm wearing Monique Lhuillier. Face it, if you're going down in a blaze of glory, this is how you want to be dressed.”
Sophie laughed. “That's the first sign I've seen of the real you all day!”
“I had a feeling he wouldn't show,” Daphne said. “He must have given me some sign that I didn't want to face. I figured all brides probably had that little inkling of fear, but now I wonder if I noticed something subconsciously.”
Mia, her friend from high school, lifted the back of her skirt. “I'm sure you did. It's always been frightening, the details you notice. Sometimes it's like being friends with the Mayan calendar.”
“Did you notice anything?” Daphne asked.
Mia shook her head.
“Keri?” She looked at her coworker, who also shook her head.
Daphne and her four attendants huddled in a circle on the steps of the church. “We look so good,” she said, making light of the situation. “What a waste.”
“You don't have to be brave for us,” Marguerite said. “Go ahead and cry if you want to.”
Daphne's blood ran cold as awareness settled in her veins. “I missed it. I missed something.”
“Did you?” Sophie raised an eyebrow. “What did I wear the first day of kindergarten?”
“A purple dress with heinous flowers on the skirt,” Daphne replied automatically.
“There. Rest assured: your obsessive nature is still well intact. Sometimes it's just easier not to see certain things.” Sophie skipped down the long set of stairs toward the limousine, and Daphne followed.
“What are you trying to say, Sophie?”
Sophie's flawless skin looked nearly plastic in the bright sunlight of the afternoon. Her strawberry-blond hair was wrapped in an elegant updo, and the simple strand of pearls around her neck was the perfect complement to the dark sapphire gown they'd selected. One thing was certain: Daphne hadn't missed a detail in coordinating the look of her wedding.
“I'm saying . . .” Sophie twisted around so quickly, Daphne nearly crashed into her. “Maybe there
weren't
any signs. Maybe things were too perfect.”
“Too perfect?” Daphne blinked mechanically. “Is that possible?”
“What was wrong with Mark? I mean, name his imperfections. Just a short list.”
Daphne turned to make certain the others weren't in hearing range. “Lots of things.”
“Name one.”
“He couldn't get a job in Paris, for one. I had to give up mine to get married.”
Sophie continued down a few more steps, and Daphne called after her, “Just because you spend all day dealing with psychological problems does not mean Mark has one.”
“Then where is he?”
She hated it when Sophie got like that, so certain in her assessment of another person. “I'm sure he has a perfectly good excuse. Maybe he never wanted to get married at all. Maybe I pushed him into it.”
“So it's your fault again. Like the excuse he had for not being employable in Paris. He left you out like yesterday's trash, and you're standing here making excuses for him.”
“You never did like him,” Daphne accused. Did Sophie really think she needed any reminders of her fiancé's faults at this moment? She was standing alone in a trumpet gown, tailored beautifully, with detailed Chantilly lace on the bodice. Every detail was perfect save one. The absence of a groom. “Maybe that's why he ran! Maybe together we scared Mark off.”
