Charity Starts at Home

Charity Begins at Home

Quinn
closed the heavy door behind him and turned the lock. His hands were encased in heavy mittens, but he couldn’t feel his fingers any more. Maybe he should have invested in a new coat this year? Camille had been telling him for years now that his threads were going to fall off his back soon, but he wouldn’t hear of it. The last few years, the winters had been mild—one of the perks of global warming, he always joked—but this year, winter came early and would probably stay around for longer than the years before. Quinn couldn’t wait for spring. Or at the very least, winter sales.

Below-freezing temperatures also meant a guaranteed full house. Not that there were ever any free beds when it was summer either, but Quinn hated turning people away, especially since this year, for some reason, he saw a lot more single dads with young children. Although he’d grown up in homeless shelters and was now working in one, the worst part of the day was when he had to close the door at night and tell all the people still in line where the other shelters were, knowing they’d probably be too late there as well. He knew all too well what it was like to sleep on cold concrete when it was snowing.

Luckily, the heater inside the small front office was roaring and Quinn slowly felt sensation return to his fingers as he held them over the furnace.

“Quinn, darling, your skinny ass is going to crack one day. You’re still wearing the coat I gave you five years ago? I hope you’re not waiting for another father of mine to die?”

Camille managed the shelter’s kitchen, among other things, and was deliciously irreverent of everything and everyone. You always knew where you stood with her, though.

“You know me, Cammie. There are always other people who need it more.”

Camille shook her head, motherly concern in her eyes. “As long as you don’t get sick, darling. Nobody takes care of these people as well as you.”

They both looked up when the clanging chime of the front door bell echoed through the small office.

“I’ll get it,” Camille said. “You warm up first.” A few moments later, she returned. “Damn, it’s cold out!”

“What did they want?” Quinn asked absentmindedly, finally taking his mittens and coat off.

“There’s a man at the door who wants to see you. Handsome,” she remarked teasingly. “Sort of a distinguished older gentleman.”

Quinn’s eyebrows flew up toward his hairline. “Distinguished older gentleman? Don’t think I know any of those. Did he give a name?”

Camille nodded. “Haden Wincott.”

Quinn chuckled. “He’s not old. Don’t you remember him? He worked here for a week during the summer. Did community service for a DUI.”

Camille shook her head. “Must have been during my summer vacation. I would have remembered him.” She flashed a knowing smile. “I better go get dinner ready. He’s waiting for you in the hallway.”

As soon as Camille left, Quinn’s smile disappeared. Why was Haden here? He’d been one of many “volunteers” who had passed through the shelter in the last year. One of their benefactors was a judge who liked to send people convicted of drunk driving to work in the shelter as part of their sentence. He figured that working with the homeless and seeing what alcohol could do to a person was a good way of assuring they wouldn’t do it again. Most of the people were white collar, privileged professionals who came in for a week, did the absolute minimum necessary and disappeared again. Since most of them barely interacted with the shelter’s regulars, Quinn seriously doubted if that week was enough to bring them to their senses. Haden had been no different. He’d swept floors and poured coffee, but Quinn had never seen him sit down with any of the homeless. Like most people, he’d been reluctant to even make eye contact, let alone touch one of the homeless men. Not that most of their patrons wanted that sort of contact either.

Quinn knew their regulars well, but he didn’t know all the particulars of their lives. The men, women and children who didn’t have a roof over their heads were too closed off for that. There was, after all, a reason why they’d ended up on the streets. For some, it was alcohol or drug abuse; others were socially inadequate, unable to function in a group well enough to hold a steady job. A not-so-small percentage simply didn’t have the mental skills to drag themselves out of a slump, and those people would need help for the rest of their lives. Quinn had found peace a long time ago in knowing he could only do so much. Now that he thought about it, he remembered a conversation he’d had with Haden about this. At the time, Haden had found it hard to understand that these people couldn’t be saved and that some didn’t even want to be saved. Quinn wondered if this visit had something to do with that.

Although the only people in the shelter that afternoon were those working to get everything ready for that evening’s residents, Quinn locked the office behind him out of habit before walking towards the hallway, which was also sealed off from the rest of the shelter by a trellis and a lock. Through the fine maze of the separating wall, Quinn could see Haden standing near the entrance door. He was wearing an expensive looking, long woolen coat and leather gloves, his collar turned up. His short, dark hair looked damp and his cheeks were rosy from the change of temperature between the outside air and the hallway.

Quinn unlocked the inside door. “Hi, Haden. What can I do for you?”

Haden looked up and Quinn was pinned into place by the man's ice blue eyes. “I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” Haden answered with a soft smile.

“Camille told me your name. Of course, I remembered you.” There was no need for Quinn to elaborate that Haden was his ideal physical type and that for a short while, he’d entertained a few carefully chosen sexual fantasies about the man. The daydreams had disappeared almost as soon as Haden had, so Quinn preferred to keep them to himself.

Holding the heavy metal door open, Quinn held out his hand and as Haden shook it, the firm handshake brought back all those unrequited feelings. Quinn gripped Haden’s hand just as firmly and mentally willed himself to push the lust to the back of his mind.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Haden continued confidently. “I have a proposal for you. Can I take you out for coffee or something so we can discuss it?”

His mind racing all over the place, Quinn didn’t know what to think. A proposal? At least his curiosity was sparked. “We open in less than two hours and there’s still a lot of work to do. I can spare a few minutes for coffee if we can take it here,” Quinn suggested, pointing behind him toward the shelter.

“Works for me,” Haden answered. “Don’t suppose your coffee is any better than it used to be?”

“No,” Quinn admitted. “Still the same, I’m afraid, but you can add as much sugar as you like and it’s hot enough to burn your tongue. Just what you need with this blasting cold weather.” He turned around and almost immediately Haden followed close behind him. His hand still against the door, Quinn hesitated opening it farther, savoring the feel of Haden’s hot breath ghosting his neck until he couldn’t stand it anymore and he pushed the door all the way open. With swift steps, he walked inside and to the back of the dining hall without checking whether Haden was following him. He didn’t need to look back. The door locked shut behind them and he could hear the sound of Haden’s expensive leather shoes on the tiles of the dining hall.

“Stealing two cups of coffee from you, Cammie,” Quinn called into the kitchen as he rounded the corner and filled two paper cups. He handed one to Haden, who had entered just behind him, and added three scoops of sugar to his. “Let’s go to the office,” Quinn suggested. “It’s warmer there.” As Quinn circled around Haden, purposely not looking at the other man, he realized he was running away from him. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t he just look the man in the eye? Haden was just a guy who’d been caught driving while he’d had a bit much to drink. Yes, he was good-looking and had a certain charm, but maybe his gaydar was wrong and this guy was straight. Wouldn’t be the first time Quinn had gotten his knickers in a twist and then found out his wires were crossed. So the guy had a proposition? Maybe he wanted to donate some money, which he obviously had plenty of, judging by his clothes and shoes.

“So what are you proposing?” Quinn asked, forcing himself to look Haden in the eye as he flopped himself down on the beat up couch in his office.

Haden took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you needed an extra pair of hands around for the holidays.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Got caught again?”

Haden looked a little puzzled for a moment, then seemed to recover. “Oh, you mean…?” He made a drinking gesture. “No, I’m going to meetings twice a week and I haven’t even touched as much as a glass of wine in seven months now. I suppose I’m officially a recovering alcoholic.”

“Good,” Quinn replied encouragingly. It was more than he needed to know, but he wanted Haden to come to the point before Camille realized that all the work for tonight still needed to be done.

“Anyway,” Haden continued. “I’m bettering my life and since I owe a great deal to this place, I thought I could give something back and volunteer a little of my time.” Haden’s confidence waned when Quinn didn’t reply. “I could organize some sort of Christmas party, get some decorations going, spruce the place up a bit….”

Quinn stopped him by raising his hands. “Haden, we can barely stay afloat as it is. There’s no budget for anything extra, I’m afraid. The Salvation Army usually gets us some turkeys and a tree and we can swing some cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes, but that’s about as festive as it gets around here.”

Despite Haden’s apparent insecurity, Quinn’s words didn’t stop him. “I’ll donate… I can find people to donate other things. I’ll make some calls. For Christmas decorations and maybe some… other stuff. I want to try to make a difference, Quinn.”

Quinn looked at Haden, this time unafraid to let their gazes lock. The passion he saw in the other man was something he had lost a long time ago. Maybe Haden was right? Maybe it didn’t take all that much to make it a little more special this year? And an extra pair of hands was always welcome.

“I can stay and help tonight as well, if you like,” Haden offered. “Since I can tell I haven’t persuaded you yet.”

Haden was looking at his half empty coffee cup, allowing Quinn to smile without feeling like he was mocking the older man. All sorts of questions ran through his mind, most of them boiling down to the same thing. Was Haden really so lonely that he was willing to spend not just a Friday night in a homeless shelter but Christmas as well? Quinn realized he didn’t know anything about Haden’s family or home life. Maybe there was more to Haden’s DUI than just a spoiled rich guy getting caught too deep after a night on the town. What if it was just a culmination of years of living hard, and the conviction had been enough for Haden’s family and maybe even his partner to turn their backs on him? Maybe the only difference between Haden and all the out-of-luck guys who came into the shelter every night was that Haden had money?

Quinn shook his head.

“No,” Haden stated resignedly. “You’re turning me down?”

Quinn recovered quickly. “Oh! No! I’d be a fool to turn down any offer of help!” He sat up straight. “We can always use an extra pair of hands around here. Thank you. It’s a very generous offer.”

Haden’s face cleared up, albeit a bit hesitantly.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn apologized. “Sometimes I think too much and forget that there are people in the room who find me a bit strange.” He contorted his face to stress the point. “It’s just… I’m not used to getting generous offers like this. Especially not around Christmas time. Most people generally stay as far away from this place as possible, including Santa Claus. Guess I can’t blame them for wanting to spend it with their families.”

Haden smiled shyly. “I realize I sound pathetic, but I drank myself unconscious last Christmas. I promised my sponsor I’d find a way not to do that this year.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Quinn replied. He got up from the beat up sofa. “You remember the afternoon routine? Let’s get started then.”

It didn’t take long for Haden to find his way. It wasn’t like anything much changed in the shelter, so after a bit of looking around, he quickly found his bearings again. Quinn was quite used to having inexperienced helpers—volunteers or otherwise—working with him, so he had no qualms about dividing the tasks that needed to be done between them. They finished with time to spare for another cup of coffee.

“So what really brought you here?” Quinn asked, leaning against the counter sipping his coffee.

“Like I said, I want to give these people a good Christmas.” Haden wasn’t looking at Quinn; instead his eyes were cast over the long white tables he’d just wiped down.

Quinn knew better than to push the issue, although he was certainly curious. He hoped all would reveal itself in due time, and if it didn’t, maybe it was none of his business. He pushed himself away from the counter and dropped his cup on the kitchen side of it before turning to Haden. “Let’s open the doors and let in the freezing masses, hey?”