Guarded: Encounters Companion Story

By Paula Wiseman

Identity comes from understanding your place and how you fit in. Son, brother, that kind of thing. Sometimes, though, we take on an identity based on what we do.

My older brother died a war hero. I was the quiet one. The college boy. I thought if I got good grades and kept from getting drafted I was home free.

I was wrong.

But Jesus didn't save me to make my life easier or to give me what I wanted. He didn't even save me to help me feel good about myself. He saved me because He loved me. I never understood the depth and wonder of that love until I saw my own incurable brokenness.

Seeing that brokenness was only the beginning. Restoration comes but not without testing. I knew the tests weren't over. Far from it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paula Wiseman
• Release date: Mar 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215831021

Paula Wiseman

Author, blogger, and speaker Paula Wiseman is a left-handed Southerner transplanted to Illinois. When not grading homeschool assignments or checking up on college life, she is proofreading her husband’s seminary papers. Keeping a bowl of M&Ms or Rolos close by helps her write award-winning Christian fiction bestsellers, like the Covenant of Trust, Foundations, and Encounters series as well as several devotional books. Find out more at www.paulawiseman.com.

Book preview

GUARDED

An Encounters Series Companion Story

PAULA WISEMAN

PEDRO, OHIO

COPYRIGHT © 2023 BY Paula Wiseman

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Paula Wiseman/Sage Words

Pedro, OH 45659

www.paulawiseman.com

Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, King James Version.

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Book Layout © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com

Guarded/Paula Wiseman.—1st ed.

CONTENTS

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CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Also by Paula Wiseman

About the Author

From the opening pages of Scripture, no one who encountered a holy God has come away unchanged. Adam, Abraham, Hagar, Moses and many, many others realized that God is not distant but a He is God who draws near to us in all our circumstances.

Each of the ENCOUNTERS books tells the story of an individual who believes he or she knows and understands God. As the story unfolds, he or she is forced to reevaluate those perceptions and reconnect with God.

CHAPTER ONE

Ishould have told Donna everything. Every mile I drove on the highway back to Knoxville, back to the college, back to the fluid lab, the only thought that ran through my head was that I should have told Donna everything.

Yesterday, my oldest sister Donna stood with me at the fence line, and she bared her soul to me. She told me our uncle molested her. Only a handful of people in the world know that, and she trusted me with it.

I should have trusted her.

But it wasn’t right. She was wrestling with enough. I couldn’t burden her with something that shouldn’t even exist. The thing was, Donna was probably the only person alive who would still love me and accept me. That’s just the way she is.

She gave me the opening. She asked me about the girl I said I was bringing home over Thanksgiving. I admitted it was a lie. There would be no girl for Thanksgiving. The truth is, there would never be a girl. Because . . . well . . . there was a boy.

I know. I was shocked, too. And ashamed. And confused. And I tried to make it go away. But here I am.

I’m not even sure how it happened. I dated girls. I took them to homecoming and winter ball and the junior and senior proms. I kissed their cheeks when I said goodnight and went home proud of myself because I hadn’t even been tempted to put a hand on them. I got a reputation for being a complete gentleman. I believed that the lack of interest was simply a testament to my superior morals.

Don’t ever believe anything is a testament to your superior morals.

When I started college, I had too much studying to do to worry about a social life. I owed it to my parents as the oldest surviving son to be successful, to excel, to carry the torch for my brother David Lee, the war hero. So I kept my head in the books for three years.

Until this past September.

I was awarded the only undergraduate spot on a research project with Dr. Edersheim. Half of the team was working on an engine design, and the rest of us were testing, measuring, and describing the airflow around and inside the engine. It meant reams and reams of numbers transcribed and graphed. It was the kind of stuff that left you with headaches and eyestrain. It was my kind of tedium.

My team leader was a grad student, Carver Marks. All those feelings I never felt when I was with a girl . . . I felt them when I was around him.

After the first week on the project, I turned in my data and some inferences I’d made. I figured he’d throw them in a folder with a Thanks, kid. Leave the data analysis to the real scientists. No, he checked every single number, nodding, whispering to himself, flipping pages, and flipping back. This is perfect, he said. Exactly what I need. Thanks, Nolan. He put a hand on my shoulder, smiled, and looked me in the eyes.

There is an acceptable, customary length of time you can look in someone’s eyes in the course of casual conversation. Once it goes beyond that, something else is going on. I felt warm and light, and some very important switch in my brain completely disengaged. How much longer do you have to work tonight? I asked him.

Not too long. Why?

I . . . I hadn’t eaten yet. You want to grab something? I had exactly ten dollars to last until Thanksgiving. And I had to buy gas to get home. I didn’t have money to waste on restaurants.

He smiled again. Sure. He straightened two stacks on his desk, switched off the light, and pulled his backpack up to his shoulder. You ever eaten at Checkers?

I hadn’t. So, we walked four blocks to a dark, smoky restaurant with barely enough room to walk between the two rows of tables. Carver dropped his backpack and slouched in the chair, then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table when he talked. I had to lean in the same way to hear him. It wasn’t especially loud inside, but I was having trouble concentrating.

Then Carver’s knee touched mine. Again, it’s customary to move back and apologize when that happens. I didn’t. Instead, I worked to silence the part of my brain that was triggering every bell and whistle and alarm it had.

We talked about the project, about the rest of the team, about the other undergrad classes I was taking. We never talked about girls. Finally, when we finished off the cheeseburgers, he tossed his napkin on his plate. Clearly, you were the right man for my team. He dropped five dollars on the table. My treat.

I walked back to my dorm room hating myself because I loved every minute sitting at that little table. What was going on? I knew Jesus. I went to church every Sunday. Twice. It wasn’t possible for an upright, Bible-believing boy to feel anything for another guy besides friendship. Friendship. That’s all. Carver was older. He had an impressive transcript. I was new. He was just being a good leader. And I was imagining things. Terrible, wicked things.

So, for the next couple of weeks, I didn’t look at him when he walked into the lab. I scheduled myself on all the weekend, overnight, horrible shifts nobody wanted so I wasn’t there when he was there.

Then he changed the schedule.

Is everything okay? he asked.

Yes, I muttered without making eye contact.

Are you avoiding me?

I don’t mean to, I lied. I just figured I was the undergrad, so the off-shifts were mine.

I’ve got some other guys for those. I need you on my shift. You understand?

My mouth went dry. I understood exactly what he was saying. There was a word for that.

Abomination.

I WENT BACK to the dormitory, passed right by my room, and went straight to the restroom. I tried everything I could think of to make myself throw up. I pushed and heaved my stomach. I jammed a finger down my throat. Nothing. The very idea alone should turn my stomach. Two men were bad enough, but if one of them was me . . . The Bible was clear. The convictions in my heart were clear. It was so far beyond wrong, I couldn’t even grasp the notion.

But as I stood there propped in the corner of that stall, dizzy, lightheaded, sweat beading across my forehead, I absolutely could grasp the notion. Oh God, forgive me. This is a sin. A huge sin . . . And I . . . I . . . need Your strength. I don’t understand what’s going on with me.

I washed my face and trudged back to my room. I didn’t even bother to turn on the light. I just collapsed onto the bed. Thankfully, my roommate, Billy Perkins, lived exactly thirty-two minutes from the campus. Most days, he went home for dinner. Most nights, he slept in his own bed. Today, I wasn’t complaining about having the place to myself.

But Billy. I’d roomed with Billy for a year now. I had other roommates before. Why didn’t I ever feel anything for him or them? I played basketball in high school. Why didn’t I feel anything then?

Because there was nothing to feel. I was exhausted, that’s all. My mind was playing tricks on me because I’d been working those crazy hours on top of all my regular homework. That had to be it. Tomorrow I’d go to the infirmary and see if they could help me out. I fell asleep, sure that my prayers had been answered.

Then I dreamed about Carver.

I GOT UP early and went straight to the infirmary. I was sitting in the waiting room trying not to get coughed on when a girl walked in. I recognized her, but I couldn’t place her. She signed her name, and when she turned, she saw me and smiled. You’re Nolan, aren’t you?

Then I remembered her. I am. Calc II, wasn’t it?

She smiled again. I’m Carol.

I would’ve come up with your name in another minute or two.

She pointed at the seat next to mine. Do you mind?

Of course not. I sat up a little straighter. Her leg brushed against mine, and her eyes said it was no accident.

I was sure God was going to show me right here, right now, that it had nothing to do with Carver. He brought a girl to flirt with me and demonstrate to me that I was all right. So, I studied her face, how smooth and perfect her skin was, the way her hair lay across her shoulders, the playfulness in her eyes. She was a beautiful girl.

While she explained her allergies to me, I waited for that warm lightness to course through me like it did with Carver. I waited in vain. I smiled at her, and I eased my arm over to touch hers. Surely that would do it.

So, what are you in for? she asked with a bright smile.

Oh, I’m having trouble sleeping, I said. I can’t think straight. It’s a senior thing, probably. Nothing serious.

I think it’s an engineering thing, she said.

She went on to tell me about her class load. She was going to be a math teacher. Student teaching next semester, and so forth. The whole time I was trying to imagine her with her clothes off. What would her skin feel like? What would her hair smell like?

I felt her hand on my knee.

What? I asked.

They called for you.

I’m sorry. I was out of it. Proof I need to be here, I guess.

What I had proved was that I could sit and fantasize about a naked woman and have absolutely no reaction. It also proved that God had not, in fact, answered my prayers.

I had trouble focusing on the doctor’s questions, which convinced him I needed something. He gave me three sleeping pills and told me to try those and, if those didn’t get me back on track, come back and see him. I stuffed the bottle in my jacket pocket and walked outside to the very first bench. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me; it was coming completely unhinged.

A moment later, Carol walked out of the building and smiled when she saw me. I stood and made a desperate plea. Can I kiss you?

What? Thankfully she was amused and not horrified.

Can I kiss you?

Sure, she said.

I took her in my arms and kissed her gently, then I pulled her closer until our bodies crushed together. My lips lingered on hers until I finally pulled back. She blinked a time or two, then gave me a shy smile. What was that for?

Research, I said. Thank you for your help,

Anytime. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. It seems I’ve been all wrong about engineers.

Most people are.

I don’t know much about scientific research, but I do remember that repeatability is very important. I mean, I want you to be sure of your results.

Thank you for that willingness. Believe me, you will be the first to know about the repeatability trials. I walked away as quickly as I could without looking like a complete jerk. I didn’t want her to think the problem was with her. If biology and physiology were to be believed, that should have done something. Kissing a woman like that should have aroused everything in any red-blooded man. Pleasant was the best I could come up with, though.

All right. I’d fantasized about a naked girl. Then I kissed a girl who meant nothing to me, completely using her. I had one more test, stopping short of actually sleeping with a girl. I went to the newsstand, bought a Playboy magazine, and went straight back to the dorm. I took my time, lingering over every single glossy picture. It was time wasted. The only pictures that caught my eye were the ones that had men in them, too.

I buried the magazine in the bottom of the trash can in the hallway, then came back and slumped onto the bed. I am going to hell.

THE NEXT THING I remember was Carver pulling my leg. Literally. I was still in my room. What are you doing here? I asked through a fog of sleep, wondering if it was a dream again.

You didn’t show up at the lab. I was checking on you.

What time is it? I blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs out of my head.

Four-thirty.

Four-thirty? In the afternoon? I’d slept for . . . almost eight hours. Without the sleeping pills. Maybe it was Carol. Maybe I wasn’t as far off base as I thought I was.

—thing okay? Carver asked.

What?

I said, is everything okay?

Yeah . . . I just . . . yeah. I tried smoothing my hair, and I checked my watch. It really was four-thirty. I’m not sleeping. I went to the infirmary . . . I didn’t even take anything.

I can cover you tonight.

No, I’m . . . I’m fine. Just gotta get my bearings, that’s all. I surveyed the room. Nothing looked out of order. I . . . Let me go brush my teeth. I’ll be there in ten minutes. You don’t have to wait. My toothbrush and toothpaste were just where they should be. I took that as a positive sign.

I don’t mind waiting.

I walked down the hall to the bathroom. Maybe this was what insanity was like. Maybe this whole thing with Carver . . . and girls . . . Maybe it was just me losing my mind. I sighed and put the toothpaste on the brush. Losing my mind wasn’t exactly a more appealing option.

Carver was sitting on my bed when I got back to the room. I’m sorry you had to come and get me. It won’t happen again. I picked up my bag and my jacket.

He looked me in the eyes the way he did the night we ate at Checkers. If something’s going on with you . . . you can trust me, all right?

My mouth went dry again. Thanks.

We walked to the lab. At midnight, a wadded-up piece of paper hit me in the side of the head. Hey, since you slept through lunch and dinner, you’re probably hungry, Carver said from the desk in the opposite corner of the room.

I was, actually. The only places open this late are bars. And I still only had that ten dollars.

I know two diners that are open and Checkers.

I have to make it to Thanksgiving on the cash I have.

He grinned. Your self-discipline is admirable. He pushed back from his desk and walked over to mine. But it still leaves you hungry. I wasn’t sure he was talking about dinner anymore.

I’ll survive.

He crossed his arms. Did I do something wrong?

No.

Then would you come and eat with me, so I’ll have some company? I’ll pick up the tab.

I can’t let you do that.

So you won’t come?

I gave in. We ended up at Checkers again, leaning over the table. His knee was touching mine almost as soon as we sat down. An image of Carver reaching across the table for my hand flashed through my mind. I shook my head to try to get rid of it.

Now what? he asked.

Oh, I . . . I was thinking about something else. Sorry.

He just nodded.

Maybe the insanity had happened before to someone else. Maybe he’d heard of it. Maybe he could reassure me. You said I could trust you.

I meant that.

I don’t really know you that well. Just this semester, really.

I TA’d for you. Twice. That helped get you on the team.

The team. Yeah, the thing is, since I’ve been on the team . . . How did I even bring it up? Carver, I think I’m—

I am, too, he said.

Losing your mind?

No, gay. Isn’t that what you were going to say? He looked down at his plate and dragged a couple of fries through a puddle of ketchup, perfectly unfazed.

No. I pushed back from the table. No, of course not. I can’t be.

Then I apologize. I misread you.

What? Misread me? I act gay? Whatever that meant.

No. You act like you’re attracted to me.

There was no breath to form any words. I must have looked like a fool, silently stammering until I could spit out, I . . . I can’t be.

He leaned closer. It’s a lot to grasp. It was for me, too.

What if I didn’t want to grasp it, though? It goes against everything I know, everything I believe. I . . . I can’t be attracted to men, to you.

But you are, he said quietly. Aren’t you?

I didn’t have to answer.

I told you that you could trust me. I’m assuming I can trust you, too. He waited, and I nodded. All right then, I’m just going to be real honest here. I don’t want to make it sound like you owe me, but I lobbied hard to get you on this project . . . because I thought there might be a chance.

There’s not a chance. I . . . no, no chance.

He leaned back and halfway shrugged. I understand. Really, I do. He reached across the table and held out his hand for a handshake. I hope we can still be friends.

I shook it slowly. Much too long, in fact. Of course we’re still friends. I tried to swallow. Always.

He nodded. Would you promise me one thing?

Yeah . . . yeah, I guess so.

If you ever decide—

I will, I said, leaving open a door that should have never existed.

I TOOK THE long way back to the dormitory. By this time of night, even the drunks were in bed, so the campus was empty and still. My head hurt, my heart ached, and my stomach needed extra convincing to keep that cheeseburger down.

Carver was gay. I think that was the first time I’d heard that word spoken out loud. I heard an English professor make a comment about homosexuality in Greece and Rome, but that was so far removed from the here and now that it was meaningless. And I’d seen movies with men who were prissy or effeminate . . .

But Carver . . . that was too much to accept.

Growing up, I knew boys who were sissies, who cried easily, who were clumsy and bookish, who were awkward and insecure. For those kinds of boys, a confession like Carver’s wouldn’t be so hard to believe. If I was honest, I started out that kind of a boy. I grew up around girls. David Lee was the oldest. Then Donna Sue and Ellen, then me, and Linda and Gail. Then the little boys. David Lee was always called outside to help my dad. I stayed inside with the girls.

If I did go outside to help, it was always, Let David Lee do that. When David Lee was killed in Vietnam, the light in my father’s eyes went out. We both knew I’d never be the man David Lee was, but we both pretended otherwise. Maybe my brain was tired of pretending. Maybe it snapped itself back in the opposite direction. Maybe that was why I was having the thoughts I’m having.

No. Lots of guys were killed in Vietnam, and their little brothers didn’t end up attracted to men.

Wait. Let’s define attracted. Carver was a natural-born leader. He was handsome, well-built, and friendly. If there were a hundred people in a room, you’d pick him out. Anybody would. You’d notice him. You’d want to be close to him and hear the stories about his trip to Mexico or the time his car broke down in the hurricane. They were good stories. That was harmless.

That wasn’t what I felt, though, and I knew it. So did he.

When I got to my dorm, Billy was actually in the room, snoring away. Even so, I switched on my desk lamp and got out my fluids book. To say I read anything would be a lie. I looked at pages for an allotted time, then turned to the next one.

I glanced at Billy once more to make sure he was asleep, and I pulled my Bible from the drawer. My palms were so sweaty they left an imprint on the bonded leather. When I was eleven, our pastor, John Boyd Shannon, challenged all the kids to read the Bible all the way through that year. He promised a silver dollar to anybody who finished. My sister Ellen and I did it. I still have the silver dollar.

If you read the whole Bible, you read things the kids Sunday school papers leave out. Like the story of Abraham and Lot and the men of Sodom. If you read it deeply, it’s a beautiful story of intercession and grace. If you read it as a twenty-one-year-old kid in a panic, it’s a terrifying story of wrath, judgment, and perversion.

And they called unto Lot, and said unto him, Where are the men which came in to thee this night? Bring them out unto us, that we may know them. That’s know in the Biblical sense, the way Adam knew his wife and she conceived. Of course, blindness and fire and brimstone came soon after.

Lord, have mercy on me, I whispered. I don’t understand . . . I figured I’d be finding a girl to marry soon. I wanted to say I felt like I’d had a cruel joke played on me. I’d kept myself pure, just like God said, and now . . . It wasn’t fair. But I wasn’t about to tell God that after the bit about the fire and brimstone.

The clock clicked for four a.m. I wasn’t going to solve this tonight. Or this morning, rather. I had two classes today and two to catch up on from yesterday. Get through the day. Then . . . face Carver again tonight.

The sole reason I was on that project was that Carver wanted me there. The sole reason he wanted me there was because he thought I was gay, too. So my ideas about my achievements and academic merit were mistaken.

The next day was a blur, and I got to the lab early. Carver breezed in right on time. Doing any better today? he asked.

I don’t know. I thought a lot about what you said. I tried to lick my lips. Whether or not I . . . I mean, even if I . . .

Nolan, it’s okay. You don’t feel the same way I do.

But I do. That’s the problem.

CHAPTER TWO

The corners of Carver’s mouth lifted, and there were tears in his eyes. "I was right," he whispered.

But, I can’t . . . We can’t . . . I stammered.

This is going to take some adjustment for you. It took me three or four years—

You’ve known that long?

He nodded. I was at a party. A wild party. Usually, that’s not my thing, but . . . I was there trying to have a good time. You know how it goes, everybody paired up. And they had this horn, and every time they blew that horn, you had to switch who you were with, right? He told this story like it was as ordinary as going to the dentist. One of those times, I looked around for my next girl, and instead, there was a guy in my face. And he kissed me. The shy grin spread across his face. I liked it. A lot.

What about the girls, though? I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to tell me he liked them or he didn’t.

It was okay. I mean, there are worse things than making out with a girl. He looked at me. But there are a lot better things, too.

I’ve never . . . been with a girl. I’ve dated a few, kissed them, but not . . .

He smiled at me. Do you want to?

That’s beside the point. I go to church. We don’t, I mean, I don’t . . . It’s immoral.

He nodded. I’m not going to argue with you. But let me give you something to think about. Whether or not something is immoral is tied to your ability to choose it. You didn’t choose who you are attracted to. It’s like you don’t wake up one morning and decide you’re going to like strawberry and not like spinach. You just do.

He took a step closer ad leaned in. I am certain you didn’t suddenly decide you were going to like boys.

I shook my head.

You just do, right?

I’m not sure.

He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled. Let me help you decide. Carver leaned forward, and before I knew what was happening, he kissed me. In successive milliseconds, my brain phased through what is he doing—is he really—this can’t be real! to utter incoherence. The short version: it was the most electrifying experience I have ever had. Ever. Before or since. When I opened my eyes, I was dizzy, breathless, and . . . ruined.

I need to sit down, I murmured, and I slid into the chair Carver had pulled over.

I know how you feel, Carver said gently.

I’m glad one of us did. Confusion, lust, revulsion, shame, euphoria, and condemnation all swirled together inside me. Grievous sin. Fire and brimstone. I didn’t choose this. It’s not fair. Wrath and judgment. Saved by the blood. Abomination, and I’d give anything if he’d do that again.

I looked up at him. I . . . This . . . I don’t . . .

He nodded.

I can’t . . . We can’t . . .

Relax, Nolan. I’m pretty sure you’re not going to hell.

You don’t know that!

Look, it wasn’t even your fault. I kissed you. You’re innocent.

I shook my head so violently I could feel the throb in my cheeks. No . . . I’m not innocent. What have I done? God help me, what have I done?

Carver put his hands on my shoulders and leaned close to me. It won’t happen again, he said. Not unless you want it to. I’m not going to harass you or pressure you, so relax. I nodded. That’s all I could do. We can be adults about this. We can work together. We can talk to each other. Things don’t have to be awkward or uncomfortable.

No . . . right . . . I don’t want them to be, I said.

Good. He patted my shoulders twice and then stood up. I won’t bring it up again.

I nodded. So other people know about you?

A few. I don’t broadcast it.

Are there . . . on campus here?

He nodded. Checkers is where they hang out.

SATURDAY MORNING, my mother called at eight a.m., just like always. How are you? she asked.

Good, I said. Busy. I was only half lying.

Will you be home anytime soon?

Well, I usually work Friday nights until midnight. It doesn’t make much sense to drive home for Saturday afternoon and Sunday church. I felt a twinge in my heart when I said church.

No, I suppose not. I could hear the deflation in her voice, but going home right now was a bad idea. Is it all right if I worry about you? she asked.

I don’t know that I can stop you, I said gently, trying to lighten the conversation.

It’s just, I don’t think it’s good for you to just work and study all the time. Do you have friends?

I tried to imagine her asking David Lee that question. Of course, I said, then I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth next. A real good friend. Head of my research team. Carver’s his name. We have a lot in common.

Good, I’m glad. Any girls I should know about? I could hear the hopeful tease in her voice.

As a matter of fact . . . I’m seeing a girl named Carol. We had calculus together. She’s going to be a math teacher.

Wonderful! Will I get to meet her?

Sure, I was, uh, going to call you once things were finalized. I was hoping to bring her home for Thanksgiving . . . You know . . . so everybody could meet her. Oh, what had I done?

"Nolan,