Page 50 of Caressed By Sin
In that moment, I realized that I’d never told Azar where we were in Brazil the whole time he’d been awake. I leaned back in the chair and whispered to him, “How did you know we were in Rio de Janeiro?”
“The smell.”
“But, this is your first time leaving the hotel.”
“Do you need to be outside to smell a city?” No sarcasm covered his face. He looked to be absolutely serious with his question.
“Azar, I can’t smell a city and know where I am. I would need to see sign names or—”
“Really?”
I grinned. “Yes. Really.”
“Perhaps, it is due to my age.” He kept his voice low. “I’ve been around for a long time. For many decades, I’ve traveled.”
“Have you visited every country?”
“Of course.” He chuckled. “I’ve most definitely been to every major capital and secondary city. Of course, some countries have changed their capitals by now, but even those I’ve seen.”
“And now you can smell what city you’re in, just from being in it?”
“Absolutely. I could have my eyes closed and my ears plugged and know where I am.”
“Amazing.” I glanced out the window.
Rio de Janeiro passed in a carnival of lights stretched beyond the horizon. It was a visual feast, pulsating and bursting with energy. Music sounded from every facet, the beaches, hills, and even the yachts on the ocean.
A glowing massive Christ the Redeemer statue loomed over it all. The statue was illuminated by spotlights, making it seem like a beacon of hope in the night.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Azar had been watching me.
“What doesthis citysmell like to you?”
“Rio de Janeiro has a unique smell.” Azar sniffed the air. “It is a mixture of salty ocean air and wet sand, sizzling grilled piranha steak topped with the aroma of crunchy cassava chips. And then there is the sugary scent of faith that connects all of those smells into one.”
“Faith?”
“Yes.”
Intrigued, I asked, “How doesfaithsmell?”
“Hmm.” He sniffed the air again. “Faith smells different in each place. For example, if five women wore the same perfume, there would be subtle differences. That is how faith smells different in other places.”
“But still. . .what does faith smell like to you?”
“It smells like home mixed with the scent of a newborn baby and your first love. It’s the fragrance of a fireplace burning on a cold night and the aroma of a new book just being opened. It’s the smell of a friend’s hug and the scent of loved one’s words. It smells like so many things that we love, that we find comfort in.”
“I would think that you would say it smelled like a church.”
Azar roared with laughter, so loud that the driver glanced over his shoulder. “Very funny, Hunter.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“Fatou, why would a church smell like faith?”
“Because that’s where faith is supposed to be found.”
