Mountain Secrets by Elizabeth Goddard (good books to read for teens txt) 📕

The sky was already growing dark. Was she going to die out here? Today was her day off and no one but Mel and the Wilsons knew she was up here. But she still wasn’t sure she could trust Mel, and the Wilsons wouldn’t know to worry about her until it was too late.

Isabel buried her face in her hands. What a mess.

She shook her head. “Izzy, you seem to have a gift for getting into messes.”

Her mother had always said that she wouldn’t amount to anything. Maybe Mom was right. Even when she was trying to do the right thing by being conscientious about her work, it seemed to end in disaster.

She wrapped the blanket tighter around her and the melody of a hymn came into her head. She hummed it and then sang the words. She calmed a little.

God was her refuge and she could rest beneath His wing. She closed her eyes tight. She had to believe that. Somehow this would all work out.

The door rattled and she jumped. A fist pounded on the thick wood.

“Isabel, it’s me.”

That was Mel’s voice.

She hesitated. Did she really want to let him in? She still didn’t know how he was connected to all this chaos. He seemed interested in keeping her safe, but his secrecy bothered her.

The pounding stopped. A moment later his face appeared at the window by the couch. He tapped on the glass.

She had a decision to make. Did she trust him or not?

Jason stamped his feet to stave off the cold. When he’d gone to search for Isabel in the house and couldn’t find her, he remembered her talking about the art studio that was separate from the main house.

Was she really not going to let him in? He couldn’t stay out here in the cold much longer. Though he’d grabbed a jacket he found hung on a hook, the chill had sunk down into his bones and his fingers were numbed.

He heard a scraping noise. She was moving something across the floor.

“Come inside.” Isabel sounded out of breath.

He hurried around the little building and mounted three steps to open the door. The room was full of metal, canvases and easels. Isabel had retreated to the far corner by a couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Are you cold?” She stepped across the room and pushed the heavy metal object back against the door.

He nodded. She’d hesitated but she’d let him in. Maybe she was starting to understand that he wasn’t the bad guy.

She pointed toward the end of the couch. “There’s a blanket over there.”

He pulled back the curtain on the only window. Though the artist studio was only partially hidden by a grove of trees, he saw no sign that their pursuer had figured out where they’d gone.

He gathered the blanket around his shoulders. Silence descended and coiled around the room. With the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, he rose from the couch and paced.

“I take it your phone still doesn’t work?”

He shook his head. “The storm must be wreaking havoc with the signal.” His eyes rested on a bowl full of wrapped mini candy bars. He picked it up and walked toward Isabel, who took several out of the bowl and whispered a thank-you. She gazed at him with big round doe eyes. Though most of the time she was so guarded, she had a softness to her that he felt drawn to.

“Mrs. Wilson must eat these while she’s waiting to be inspired, huh?” He grabbed a few pieces for himself before setting the bowl back down.

The remark brought only a faint smile to Isabel’s face. “I don’t know that much about her personal habits.” She rose to her feet. “She’s got a sink over here to rinse her brushes out. Do you want some water?”

“Sure.”

The faucet sputtered and spit while Isabel filled two paper cups, but at least it wasn’t frozen. She handed him one of the cups and then sat back down.

The cool liquid soothed his dry throat.

Jason let the blanket fall to the floor while he paced. She really did act like she worked for a property management company just as she’d said when she’d first opened the door to him. It was clear to him now that she was an innocent in all this mess.

“That man who chased us. He wants something. He thinks I have it.” She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on here?”

A debate raged in his head. How much should he tell her? So the thief was trying to find the bookmark. That meant it must have been moved. Only one person could have moved it.

They were trapped here until the storm broke. Taking the bookmark would reinforce the ruse that they wanted to be part of the smuggling ring. “Part of your job must be to tidy up before owners of the house come to stay.”

“A little bit. Sometimes workers have left a mess in the owner’s absence or things just look out of place.” She shrugged. “That sort of thing.”

Her eyes held a certain serenity, a total lack of guile. He wondered how much of his hand he should show. “Do you think you might have moved the thing the thief was looking for?”

She thought about it. “Nothing of value.” She shook her head. “Besides, if he wants to steal things there is plenty of expensive stuff to take in that house.”

“It sounds like he’s looking for one thing in particular.”

“It sounds like you know more than you’re telling me, Mel.” Her voice held a bit of an edge. “Like exactly what he’s looking for.”

His initial impression of her had been that she was soft and refined. But something in those eyes told him she had a spine of steel underneath. He admired that about her.

He let out a breath. “My name isn’t Mel. It’s Jason. I got that shirt at a thrift store. It’s useful in my line of work.”

“So, you lied about your name.” She continued