Hounded

by Anita Klumpers

  Come then, ye other children, Nature’s—share

  With me’ (said I) ‘your delicate fellowship;

  Let me greet you lip to lip,

  Let me twine with you caresses,

  Wantoning

  With our Lady-Mother’s vagrant tresses,

  Banqueting

  With her in her wind-walled palace,

  Underneath her azured dais,

  Quaffing, as your taintless way is,

  From a chalice

  Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring.’

  So it was done:

  I in their delicate fellowship was one—

  Drew the bolt of Nature’s secrecies.

  I knew all the swift importings

  On the wilful face of skies;

  I knew how the clouds arise

  Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings;

  All that’s born or dies

  Rose and drooped with; made them shapers

  Of mine own moods, or wailful divine;

  With them joyed and was bereaven.

  I was heavy with the even,

  When she lit her glimmering tapers

  Round the day’s dead sanctities.

  I laughed in the morning’s eyes.

  I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,

  Heaven and I wept together,

  And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine:

  Against the red throb of its sunset-heart

  I laid my own to beat,

  And share commingling heat;

  But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.

  In vain my tears were wet on Heaven’s grey cheek.

  For ah! we know not what each other says,

  These things and I; in sound I speak—

  Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.

  Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth;

  Let her, if she would owe me,

  Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me

  The breasts o’ her tenderness:

  Never did any milk of hers once bless

  My thirsting mouth.

  Nigh and nigh draws the chase,

  With unperturbed pace,

  Deliberate speed, majestic instancy;

  And past those noisèd Feet

  A voice comes yet more fleet—

  ‘Lo! naught contents thee, who content’st not Me.’

  Naked I wait Thy love’s uplifted stroke!

  My harness piece by piece Thou has hewn from me,

  And smitten me to my knee;

  I am defenceless utterly.

  I slept, methinks, and woke,

  And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.

  In the rash lustihead of my young powers,

  I shook the pillaring hours

  And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,

  I stand amidst the dust o’ the mounded years—

  My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.

  My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,

  Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.

  Yea, faileth now even dream

  The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist;

  Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist

  I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,

  Are yielding; cords of all too weak account

  For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.

  Ah! is Thy love indeed

  A weed, albeit an amarinthine weed,

  Suffering no flowers except its own to mount?

  Ah! must—

  Designer infinite!—

  Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it?

  My freshness spent its wavering shower I’ the dust;

  And now my heart is as a broken fount,

  Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever

  From the dank thoughts that shiver

  Upon the sighful branches of my mind.

  Such is; what is to be?

  The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?

  I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds;

  Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds

  From the hid battlements of Eternity;

  Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then

  Round the half-glimpsed turrets slowly wash again.

  But not ere him who summoneth

  I first have seen, enwound

  With glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned;

  His name I know and what his trumpet saith.

  Whether man’s heart or life it be which yields

  Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields

  Be dunged with rotten death?

  Now of that long pursuit

  Comes on at hand the bruit;

  That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:

  ‘And is thy earth so marred,

  Shattered in shard on shard?

  Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!

  ‘Strange, piteous, futile thing!

  Wherefore should any set thee love apart?

  Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said),

  ‘And human love needs human meriting:

  How hast thou merited—

  Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?

  Alack, thou knowest not

  How little worthy of any love thou art!

  Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,

  Save Me, save only Me?

  All which I took from thee I did but take,

  Not for thy harms,

  But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.

  All which thy child’s mistake

  Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:

  Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’

  Halts by me that footfall:

  Is my gloom, after all,

  Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?

  ‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,

  I am He Whom thou seekest!

  Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.’

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Could I have written this book with no help? Possibly. Would it be filled with extraneous words, non sequiturs and way too many semi colons? Probably. Those loved ones who specifically work me through and around the nuts and bolts of writing are named below.

  The greatest writing support group imaginable. My Friends of the Pen cohorts Cheryl, Joanie, Lori, and Robin provided endless encouragement and gentle critiques.

  My editor, Susan Baganz. “Who needs a fairy godmother with an editor like Susan?”

  My husband, Byron. During my writing frenzies he eats leftovers, forages for clean socks, and needs to repeat every question or comment at least twice. He is the best of men.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Anita Klumpers, wife, mom and grandma, homeschooled her three sons for seventeen years and emerged relatively unscathed. Her life then and now is remarkable by its very ordinariness. She’s been blessed with a husband who is good and hardworking, a church that is small but gospel-driven, children who for every step back took two forward.

  With her youngest son launched into college, she wondered what an unorganized procrastinator could do to make the world a better place. Convinced that a bit of humor and a dose of prudishness were a good place to begin she started to blog, first as ‘The Prude Disapproves’ (http://theprudedisapproves.blogspot.com) and now at ‘The Tuesday Prude.’ (http://thetuesdayprude.com) She goes for coffee with friends frequently, writes skits and teaches drama classes seasonally, cleans the top of her fridge occasionally and marvels at God’s grace daily.

  Anita’s first book, a romantic suspense titled Winter Watch was released in January 2014 and her second, Hounded, came out in February 2016. Both are published through Prism Book Group.

  Currently at work on a third novel, this one a romantically-tinged novel of suspense, she would accomplish more if she spent less time admiring her small but oh-so-brilliant grandsons.

  Ple
ase enjoy this excerpt from Clue Into Kindness,

  the next book in Prism’s Love Is series.

  Georgia loved this Italian restaurant, and having dinner with her husband’s best friend, Ken, and his wife was a treat too. And to top it all off, Jana, Ken’s wife, had become her best friend. Fine food with companions she loved—an evening couldn’t be better.

  At least until this moment, anyway. Georgia wished the topic hadn’t switched to political leaders.

  “Georgia, you don’t know what you’re talking about. That guy is a bozo.”

  Georgia cringed as though bitten by a scorpion. Why did he need to sound so condescending?

  Ken winked at her and reached out to touch Alan’s shoulder. “Hey, old buddy, don’t get all excited. The four of us can share different opinions, can’t we? Shoot, you and I’ve been friends since kindergarten. Have we always agreed? Nope—not hardly. Remember those days when we argued at recess? You wanted to play tag with the girls and I wanted to swing. I ended up going with you. Turned out well, chasing those little lassies was fun too.”

  How kind of ken to defend her after Alan’s embarrassing remark. Had her sweetheart harped on such things before they married? Georgia sighed. No, she didn’t think so—didn’t remember any. When they dated, he’d complimented her and seemed pleased with anything she’d said. If he’d made some of the observations he’d made today, she might’ve entertained second thoughts about the life-time commitment.

  Jana sipped an iced tea. “Ken always defends the underdog. Don’t you, honey? He’s been like that ever since I’ve known him, but I agree with Alan. That politician is a bozo.”

  Georgia toyed with a napkin. “I didn’t care for the way he voted on the tax issue, however he’s done well with other matters.” Who cared if this group failed to appreciate her opinions? She held the right to speak them, even though she risked her husband’s scorn. On the other hand, would this kind of reaction cause him to treasure her? Probably not. She wanted Alan to appreciate and value her accomplishments. Oh well, she’d keep trying to make him see her as special.

  “Which day in our history did you become an expert on current events? When we dated, you were a party girl—the campus beauty queen. You weren’t tuned into politics.” Alan waved a dismissive hand as he spoke to Georgia. “Now, me? I’ve always been interested. I study the issues and learn what’s going on.” He wiggled a finger. “After three years of marriage, you’ve become a real know-it-all.”

  “Maybe you’ve taught her a lot about world affairs.” Jana crossed her legs and shifted her weight. “You’ve shown Ken a thing or two. He watches cable television now—even reads the newspaper. I like having him at the morning table with me rather than sitting at the computer.”

  How polite of Jana to smooth things over.

  A server carried a large tray on his shoulder and the aroma of garlic drifted down to their table.

  “I thought he had our order. I’m starving.” Alan viewed the dimly lit restaurant as if he hoped another server would appear with their meal. “I made sure my customers’ bread baskets were full to go along with their drinks when I waited tables in college. Our waiter doesn’t understand his job.” He held up a basket. “Look at this. This thing should be restocked with rolls, and the guy can’t bother to refill our glasses, either. He won’t get much of a gratuity from me.”

  Jana nodded. “He’s forgetful but I’d hate not to give him the fifteen percent.”

  “When a person does a respectable job, I tip twenty to thirty percent.”

  “Perhaps he’s new.” Georgia lifted her eyebrows as she scanned the room.

  “No matter. He needs to use common sense. When I held his position, I earned more money in tips from satisfied customers than all the servers combined. The staff couldn’t figure out how I did it. I used my head and checked on people.”

  Georgia patted Alan’s arm. “You did well, honey. You took me to some elegant places during those days. We even went to restaurants similar to this. Alan was very romantic back then.” She fingered the white table cloth. “Our favorite Italian bistro wore red-checkered cloths and candles instead of this neutral color.”

  “If I’d known Ken through college years, our dates might have been hot dogs and free movies.” Jana touched her husband’s arm and gave him a wink. “And I’d have loved every minute of it. Too bad I didn’t meet you earlier.”

  “I wish you’d been around, too. Hot dogs would’ve tasted gourmet with you there.” Ken shrugged. “The paycheck from the campus bookstore was small—Alan earned more in the restaurant, but I enjoyed the job. Reading has always been a hobby to me, and now as editor of Always Texas Living, it’s my career.”

  “But we didn’t take the paper in the early days of marriage.” Jana’s tone carried a hint of reproach, however she smiled apologetically and glanced at Georgia. “A long-time habit. Had to have my newspaper first thing with coffee.”

  Now why couldn’t Alan be more like Ken? How she longed for cozy moments similar to the ones her friends shared. Georgia tried to ignore the gnawing ache of loneliness in her heart.

  “Alan finally convinced me to subscribe to the Houston Chronicle. Before the paper, I got information solely off the Internet. Good job, old buddy.” Ken lifted a water glass in a mock toast. “Thanks. The newspaper helps me with work. You can’t imagine how many ideas it generates for me.”

  “Glad I helped.” Alan searched the room again for the server and scowled. “Where is the waiter?” He turned his attention to Jana. “Ken wasn’t as fast on his feet as me—never has been. I always tagged the most girls at recess.” He gestured—palms up. “Maybe that’s why I liked it so much. Did you know I ran track in high school? I switched to baseball when I entered college. My speed and good arm earned me the position of shortstop on the team. Found it difficult to maintain my GPA, work at night, and take on athletic duties during the day, but I did it.”

  “I keep Alan’s trophies in the bookcase. I’m sure you’ve seen them. He has many accomplishments, past and present.” Georgia smiled at Jana. Maybe that remark will please Alan and win some points for me. Hope so, anyway.

  Jana performed a subtle eye roll. “Yes. He pointed them out once and described each event. The awards are good mementoes of former days. Ken often talks about those high school meets and university ball games. We don’t have plaques or medals at our house. We aren’t athletically inclined.”

  Ken and Jana grinned at each other.

  Georgia blotted her lips and returned the napkin to her lap. “Alan runs five miles every morning. I’m so proud of him. Rain or shine—he’s out there.”

  Alan patted his abdomen. “Got to keep the six-pack in shape.” He pointed a finger at Georgia. “When are you going to start jogging? Your waistline could use some attention. You’ve gained a few since our wedding day.”

  “You’re right, but I’m content to merely walk a mile or two.” Georgia clutched her hands in her lap.

  “You should join me sometime for yoga class.” Jana glanced at her watch. “My session usually meets right now, however the class for tonight was canceled.”

  “Yoga might be okay for stretching, but it won’t burn as many calories as a decent run. I’ve tried to convince Georgia to go with me every morning. An early jog is beneficial for the metabolism, and it spawns more energy. She’s gained three pounds—one for each year we’ve been married. At this rate, she’ll be fifty pounds heavier on our golden anniversary.”

  Why must he publicize such things? Georgia determined to show no response. Was her smile placid? She hoped so.

  “Are you going to train for the marathon?” While toying with his spoon, Ken directed his question to Alan.

  “Yep. Plan to win the thing.”

  All this bragging is bound to bore Jana. Georgia focused her attention on her friend. “Are you enjoying your promotion? I can’t imagine sitting at a desk all day and analyzing data on spread sheets.”

  “The work overwhelmed me
at first, but I love it now.”

  “New employment can do it. I remember when I initially joined Wick’s Pipe and Fitting, I was uncomfortable, but it didn’t take me long to find my groove. Of course, I’m a people person, and selling has always been my thing.” Alan’s proud grin reminded Georgia of a cat she’d once seen who’d hidden a songbird in the bushes.

  The server appeared, placed dishes in front of them, and mixed up the orders. Alan frowned. “I asked for lasagna, and Ken ordered the grilled chicken.” He switched the plates. “Georgia wanted fettuccini, and Jana requested spaghetti. Ladies, trade your platters.” He squinted at the waiter. “Would you bring bread and refill the tea glasses.”

  With a red face, the server nodded and scurried off.

  “Honestly. Did you ever witness such incompetence?” Alan expressed his opinion loud enough for the retreating employee to hear it.

  Georgia picked up her fork and poised to eat. “Oh, it’s okay. No harm done.”

  Alan scowled. “Perhaps not, but even if you don’t agree about politicians, why can’t you see eye to eye with me regarding the waiter?”

  “Sorry. I guess you’re right. He has a lot to learn.” She turned her head toward Jana. “How’s your spaghetti?”

  “Spicy and delicious.”

  “This chicken is good, too.” Ken leaned in to kiss Jana. “But not as juicy as yours. My wife treats me to fantastic suppers and her grilled chicken is a favorite of mine.”

  Jana beamed. “Thanks. I use Mom’s recipe. I marinate with secret spices for a minimum of six hours before I place it on the grill.”

  “Georgia does okay with spaghetti and meat sauce from a jar. She’s not a fancy cook.”

  “And it’s a good thing I’m not a food expert. How else could I help you keep your six-pack in such excellent condition? If I were a gourmet chef, you might need to run ten miles each day.”

  Three of them laughed as though she’d told the best yarn of the century.

  Georgia glanced at Alan. He hadn’t found merriment in the comment. Maybe her statement sounded too unkind. Well, she’d make it up to him. This man owned her heart. No way did she want to hurt him.

  Clue Into Kindness will release February 2016.

  Visit www.prismbookgroup.com for more information.

  If you’ve enjoyed this novel, please consider leaving the author a review. Your thoughts and feedback are very much appreciated.