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Jill's Secret

by
Rebecca Somoskey

 

  
   

Kit wiggled in Jill's arms and licked her face, then howled.

"Shhh," Jill whispered. "Dad will hear you. And you've got to be my secret." She gently held the dog's mouth shut.

"Oh, if you were only mine for good," she murmured into the floppy ear.

Kit whined as Jill set him down on the ground.

She placed the bowl of table scraps she was supposed to feed the chickens in front of the little beagle. Kit gulped them down. Then Jill filled the water pan from the creek and sat down to smooth the dog's fir. She read the dog tag again. "Kit", Owner: O.R. Nelson, Pine Ridge, Virginia; Phone:276-817-8426

Jill knew Mr. Nelson. He was probably worried about his dog, but she couldn't call him yet. She wanted to keep Kit just a little longer.

Her dad had said, "no," last summer when Jill asked for a puppy. She wanted a beagle of her very own. Jill had been so lonely since her mother died.

As she carried the empty dish back into the kitchen her father called. "Jill, where've you been?"

"Playing in the woods."

"Did you hear a dog barking? I thought I heard one."

"No," Jill said. "I didn't hear anything."

Jill knew she'd have to move Kit farther back into the woods.

"I guess it was my imagination," Dad said.

The next day Jill couldn't concentrate on math and spelling. All she could think about was Kit, and how guilty she felt. But then she thought about the fun she'd had since Kit came, and felt better. She'd keep him until Friday, then call Mr. Nelson. Her dad would never have to know. What harm was there in that?

That afternoon she jumped off the school bus and ran straight to the tree where Kit was tied. The chain hung from the tree--empty!

"Dad must have found him," Jill moaned. "I'm in trouble now."

"Jill, we need to talk." Her dad held the back screen door open until Jill was inside.

She trudged into the living room and sank down on the sofa. When her dad came and sat beside her, she covered her face with her hands.

"I had a beagle dog once," her dad began. "Her name was Bitsy. I loved her more than anything. Every spare minute I had we were in the woods together. Boy, we had fun." He was silent a moment. "I know you want a dog, Jill, but since your mama died I just haven't thought we had time to take care of one. With you in school and me working in the mines and all the extra chores at home ....

Jill hurried to explain. "I found him just last Saturday. I was going to call Mr. Nelson soon. I just wanted to pretend Kit was mine for a few days."

"I understand your reason for wanting Kit, honey, but I don't understand why you lied to me. You know how God feels about that."

"I know, Dad." Jill swallowed to keep from crying. "I'm sorry."

"You know the penalty--you'll have the clean the chicken pen by yourself for a month." Her dad rose from the couch and started toward the door.

Then he turned to face Jill again. "I think you need to make things right with the Lord, honey."

Jill walked slowly into the back yard. She'd never get a puppy now. She shouldn't have kept the dog. She'd just made more trouble for her dad. She leaned on the rake handle and wiped her tears on her jacket sleeve. Maybe it was time to give her heart to the Lord. To have Him to help her so she wouldn’t make so many mistakes.

With the rake, she spread the chicken droppings evenly over the top of the compost. What were those verses her dad had made her memorize each night before bed when she was in elementery school?

"Why do I have to learn them?" she’d asked.

"So when you decide you need Jesus as your Savior, Jill, you'll know what to do," Dad had said.

Jill quoted them all to herself again. Romans 3:23, "For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." Romans 6:23, "The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." . Before, they had been just words, but now she understood. Romans 10:9 & 10, "That if thou shalt confess with they mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness and with the mouth confession is made unto salvaion. By the time she finished the last verse tears were falling down her cheeks, so she bowed her head. "Dear Jesus, I'm a terrible sinner, always messing up and doing the wrong things. But I'm so sorry. I know You died to pay for my sins. Please forgive me and come into my heart. I need Your help to do what is right. Amen."

When Jill raised her head the world looked brighter. "Thank You, Lord, " she whispered as she sped toward the barn with the wheelbarrow. She couldn't wait to tell Dad.

That’s when she saw the truck pull into the driveway.

"Uh-oh! It's Mr. Nelson and he's probably mad." Jill began to pray silently. Please, Lord, I need help to do the right thing now."

"Jill," Mr. Nelson called out.

Even though her knees were trembling, she came and stood before Mr. Nelson and looked him straight in the eye, like her dad had always taught her to do. "Yes, Sir?"

"What you did wasn't right, Jill."

"I know, Sir. I'm sorry."

"Your dad explained everything."

"There was no excuse for lying." Jill admitted. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her dad coming.

"But you took real good care of Kit while he was here so I want to pay you."

"You don't owe me anything, Mr Nelson."

"Well, then, let's just say this is a gift. Come on over to the truck. I want to show you something."

"Go on, Honey," her dad nudged her from behind.

Mr. Nelson opened the door to the wire cage in the back of his truck. Out jumped a little beagle puppy, wagging his tail furiously.

"He's Kit's son," Mr. Nelson explained. "I want you to have him. Your dad and I agree that you showed real responsibility in taking care of Kit, and he thinks you're ready for a dog."

Jill gathered the wiggling puppy into her arms. The puppy licked her face and barked loudly.

"Just like Kit," she whooped. She could hardly believe it. "Thank you, Mr. Nelson," Jill cried! "And thank you, Lord," she whispered. She might have to clean the chicken pen forever but that didn't matter now. She had a dog of her own.

"What are you going to call him?" Dad asked.

She looked the puppy over carefully. "He's the spittin' image of old Kit. I think I'll call him J.R. for short."

 

 

 

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