Haven

The hollow autumn moon lingered low on the murky midnight horizon as a brisk, winter kissed wind relentlessly rolled along the harbor, effortlessly gathering up acrid ocean aromas that easily carried far inland. The stringent, salty stench added a bitter bite to the chilly, late November night, giving most just cause to keep locked indoors, safely sheltered away from the unpleasantly seasonal elements. In the hours since the sun had faded far, into the distant west, the temperature, had declined a good fifteen degrees, if not more. Not even the most hardy souls seemed eager, to venture out into the icy evening, rendering the streets borderline barren, save an occasional drunk aimlessly stumbling out on a desperate mission, to seek out renewed means of intoxication. Sweet amnesia in a bottle, a great many called it, those that were willing to admit that drinking served as their only true means of escape...drinking allowed them a brief chance, to forget, for a time, the harsh reality that surrounded them each and every day as they lived out their lives on the streets, sleeping in narrow back alleys while struggling to find minimal nourishment in moldy food scraps fished from musky, seldom dumped dumpsters.

It was hardly a pretty sight to see...men and women and most especially children, silently terrified, huddled together yet alone with their fear as they tried hard to hide their thoughts and feelings behind a mask of carefully crafted indifference. It was a general, albeit unspoken rule, that one was wise to conceal as much as possible when living on the streets...it was wise not to allow anyone to see or even sense a weakness that could be exploited by those more than willing to prey on the weakest link in what was a hardened chain where feelings such as compassion and pity were not often felt, much less displayed, as most were too caught up in securing their own survival to give a damn about others.

The streets were, for the most part, governed by the concept that it was every man for himself...worrying about someone else only wasted energy one desperately needed to pave their own way in what could be traitorous territory. Playing nice made one a target for predators...one learned quickly that self preservation was all that mattered...one learned quickly that living for the day at hand was the key factor in surviving and hoping for something better was little more than a foolish waste of time, just as it was foolish to worry about what the tomorrow would bring, as one was never guaranteed a tomorrow. It was always likely one wouldn't live long enough to see another day dawn...anything could happen...illness or accident...for a brief moment the natural guard could be lowered just long enough to allow an unexpected attacker all the time needed to descended with a vengeance, if they believed taking out one in circumstance similar to their own could improve their own dark lot in life.

Born and raised in the upper scale of Manhattan, dotted on endlessly by a mother and father that wanted nothing more than to give their only child the very best, Callie Nolan had no first hand experience when it came to struggling desperately to survive on the streets in a hand to mouth existence. She had no clue what it felt like to go for days at a time without food, just as she had no idea what it was like to sleep wherever dry space could be found...she was a novice and an innocent to just how harsh the world really could be and it was that innocent nature, that utter clueless but somehow enchanting quality that she radiated in abundant spades that Logan Hansons found annoyingly remarkable the day his world and Callie's collided head on.

It was innocent enough, he supposed, a young girl showing up at Haven, the small but fairly popular and often frequented homeless refuge he operated...he had numbers of men and women appearing at all times to offer their services, saying they wanted to volunteer to cook or clean or council. His staff was made up completely of volunteers, the budget he had to work with, went to purchasing supplies for the shelter, for those that turned to Haven for a decent meal and a place to sleep from time to time. He had a dormitory type setup, with rooms set aside for men, for women and children...he had a small daycare where kids often stayed while his staff did what they could to find jobs and permanent placement for their parent or parents, in desperate hopes of establishing a future that offered more hope than the past.

Of course, most of those that volunteered, those that Logan worked with, were former members of the homeless population, just as he had been...his volunteers knew from experience, the plight faced by the men and women and children that came to them looking eagerly for the most basic comfort. A decent meal. A clean bed. A shower. Things most took for granted, during the course of their daily lives...the pain and fear and self hate were familiar concepts to the staff at Haven and Logan liked it that way, as he believed only a person who had lived on the streets, for however brief a time, could understand in any real senses what someone currently in the situation suffered and endured and when it came to Callie Nolan, he knew with one single look that the girl had never seen the horrors he and his staff had.

She appeared at the shelter on a brisk day in early October and when she came in the door she brought the crisp autumn chill into the room with her as she paused for a quick moment to look slowly around the main lobby, so lost in her observations that she didn't see Logan as he stood to her right, having spotted her as he emerged from his small office.

In his first assessment, he realized, later, that he looked at her the way any man would look at a beautiful woman who was unaware of his presence...it was only natural to take at least a brief moment to admire the sight she made as she stood there quietly, with her shoulder length copper colored hair falling freely, in a somewhat wind tangled cascade. The interesting marriage of brown and red shimmered with an almost crimson flare beneath the bright sunlight that spilled through the windows at her back, bathing her in an alluringly soft glow that made her seem a bit surreal, almost untouchable.

She wasn't tall, no more than five three or five four, but her petite figure featured curves that were indeed perfect...flared hips and full breast with a trim waist all currently incased in black jeans and a purple sweater that stood in beautiful contrast to her ivory skin. Chine Doll ivory skin, he mentally corrected himself...her skin looked satin soft and damn near flawless and when she turned to look at him, suddenly aware of his presence, he could see that her eyes were a very rich chocolate brown, fringed with dark lashes.

Bright and open, her eyes were the dominate feature in a delicate face that offered fully, naturally pink lips, high cheeks and innocent looking dimples that appeared when she smiled and moved towards him, her hand extended.

"Hi. I'm Callie Nolan."

Her voice was soft, almost musical, but laced with warmth that briefly made him think about the summer sun burning bright in a sapphire blue sky.

Shaking the thought from his mind, he accepted her small hand in his while her eyes held his and her smile remained.

"I'm Logan." He withdrew his hand, folding his arms over his chest as he regarded her.

"Really? Great. You are the person I am here to see."

"And why are you here to see me, Ms. Nolan?"

"Actually, I was told I needed to see you, about volunteering."

It was the last thing he had expected her to say...she was there to volunteer...he stared at her for a moment, waiting for the punch line, but she only looked at him expectantly, completely serious and waiting for his reaction.

"You want to volunteer here? At Haven?"

"Yes. I attend NYU. I am actually in my last year..."

"And one of your classes requires you to do at least fifty hours of volunteer work during the semester to guarantee you pass."

"And this place was on the list that my professor passed out and I..."

"We don't need any new volunteers." He cut her off curtly.

"Oh. I...my professor said there could never be too many volunteers."

"Yeah, well, your professor is wrong on that one. We don't need you here."

"Excuse me?" Something in her eyes dimmed, the hostile tone he had taken had dawned on her finally as she looked up at him. "I don't understand what you mean by...I get a feeling I've somehow started off on the wrong foot here and I don't know how..." But he was glaring at her, his eyes filled with an anger, she didn't understand what she could have done to upset him, as he pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against, cursing under his breath, but still loud enough for her to hear it.

"Listen, little girl, I get that you are just trying to do what you need to do to pass a class at your fancy college, but this here isn't a class project."

"I didn't think..."

"We do serious work here, helping people that need it, people who have had it hard, in life and you..." He released a bitter laugh. "I can look at you and see you don't have a clue what hardship is about, so why don't you go volunteer someplace where your expertise in running up your daddy's credit card bills can be put to good use." He looked down at her with open scorn, as she stood there for a moment, clearly shocked, her eyes wide and if he read them right, laced with more than a little hurt.

"Excuse me, but you have no idea who I am."

"I have a pretty good idea."

"The fucking hell you do, you ass. You don't know a damn thing about me."

"One look at you and I can tell that you are a spoiled rotten brat that has never had to so much as try and fend for herself a single day in your life."

"I am a twenty three year old senior at NYU, currently working my ass off, to earn my degree in Education, so I can get a job teaching English and Literature..."

"All on Daddy's dime, right?"

"No, my daddy isn't around to pay for it, and neither is my mother, though I will admit that I have used part of the money they left to me to pay for my college education, but I would gladly trade every dime for a chance to see them again. But I can't, because they died in a boating accident, when I was eighteen." With each word she threw at him in her rage, her voice rose and her eyes blazed. "And yes, I did have an easy life and by most standards, I suppose I still do, but it doesn't give you the right to take just one look at me and shove me into some mold, because I'm not a spoiled brat, you arrogant ass." She couldn't believe the things he had said to her, that with one look he had made up his mind about her...it was beyond unfair and she was beyond pissed as she stared up at him, not certain what else to do or say. She had never had such an insane, and hostile, confrontation and she couldn't say she had enjoyed it, as she took a moment to pull in a deep breath, mentally willing herself to calm down.

It was only a rare occasion that she ever lost her tempter, it wasn't in her nature, but this man...he had sparked her rage to life with his harsh comments and she despised him for it as she turned to leave, having made up her mind that enough was enough already. She could and would find another place to volunteer...someplace where she wouldn't be insulted for no good reason, she decided as she stalked across the lobby, only to find herself halting midway when she heard him calling out her name in a far less hostile tone that compelled her to turn around and look at him with smoldering eyes.

"The kitchen." He waved in the direction behind him. "A lady named Betty is in charge of all the kitchen help and she mentioned something about maybe being able to use an extra pair of hands a couple nights a week."

Just like that, he gestured for her to follow him and she did, not at all certain why, as he did not make any effort to apologize or excuse his nasty behavior, as she trailed behind him quietly, willing to ignore the nasty behavior he had displayed. She had a feeling the words 'I'm sorry' had no place in his vocabulary...stubborn ass that he was, Callie suspected he didn't intend to ever so much as acknowledge the things he had said and she decided not to push the issue as he guided her into the kitchen were he curtly and quickly introduced her to a short, stocky, gray eyed and white haired women named Betty.

The moment he had the introduction, Logan left the kitchen without another word to her and Callie was left with the feeling she had just encountered a force of nature...the man was not like anyone she had ever met in her life, but she made an effort to push that reality from her mind as Betty explained to her how the kitchen worked.

She was a pleasant women, bright and clever with a sharp humor that Callie warmed to instantly. Betty made her feel perfectly at ease, not foolish and out of place, as Logan had...Betty, bless her heart, didn't make assumptions, she asked quotations that Callie happily answered and in return, the older woman explained she had lived on the streets for ten years, between the ages of fifty and sixty.

She had found herself homeless, after her husband died suddenly and what money they had saved went to pay their staggering bills...it just snowballed beyond her control, leaving her with no choice but to sleep first in her car, and then on the streets, after her car was towed.

For a decade, with no one to turn to, she struggled to survive, often barely making in, until the day she stumbled into Haven, to have her first encounter with Logan Hanson.

"That was six years ago, just after this place opened." She smiled as she shared the story, it was obvious to Callie that Betty cared a great deal for the surly man Callie wasn't certain how to begin to take. "He helped me find a job and an apartment and I finally managed to get myself on the right track once again." She had been volunteering at the shelter every since, she enjoyed the work, the chance to help others and she liked working with Logan...she had come to think of him as a son, she confessed to Callie, who waited a short week, before explaining to Betty exactly how her first encounter with Logan had played out.

The man had made an impression, she did her best to avoid him at all cost, when she was at the shelter...she wasn't scared of him or anything even related to that emotion group, but he did make her feel on edge and nervous and as much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she found him to be the most remarkably attractive man she had ever encountered.

At six two, he towered over her petite stature, making her feel more feminine than any other man ever had...everything about him was over the top, brimming with arrogant heat and masculine dominance that seemed to radiate from him each time he walked into a room, giving one the impression that his hazel, gold flaked eyes missed nothing.

He was a powerful built man, a solid construction of defined muscles that rippled with an energy Callie found fascinating each time she managed to steal a look at him, finding herself oddly drawn to that energy. He never said much, he watched and observed more than interacted, but it was obvious that he cared about the work that took place at Haven...of course, his devotion to the shelter was only part of what drew her to him, Callie admitted to herself, unable to deny that she believed him to be physical perfection.

Not what one could call pretty boy handsome, he had a rugged appeal, a masculine and almost heady aura that went with his hard build, watchful eyes, sensual lips and angular features, each perfectly defined, from his straight nose to his sculpted cheeks. He didn't shave every day, he didn't seem to care for it and the whiskery look worked for him, as did the somewhat unruly but soft looking dark brown, slightly curled hair that lingered to the collar of his customary black or white, chest hugging t-shirts.

She knew, via Betty, that he was thirty two, unmarried, had operated Haven for seven years, with monetary support from donations secured by a friend of his...a friend that had been the one to first help Logan get his lift together after he had spent nearly ten years struggling daily to survive living on the streets.

It came as a shock, to Callie, to learn that Logan had once been homeless himself, that he had found himself with no place he could go when he was fifteen. His father had never really had a role in his life, he hadn't a clue where the man was at, and he assured Betty that he didn't care, in the least...he had only had his mother he could depend on and when he was fifteen, she died, from an unexpected heart attack, leaving Logan orphaned.

With no family to turn to, he had initial been placed in foster care, but for reasons Betty did not know, he didn't stay there long, before running away.

In truth, Betty confessed she didn't know much about the time Logan had spent living on the streets, he didn't talk much about it. He tended to be closed mouthed when it came to details, involving certain aspects of his life and Betty and those that knew him best didn't push the issue, feeling it was best to allow him whatever privacy he wanted. Betty felt he had earned it, given all he did to help others...he worked tirelessly, day and night, she often wondered if the man slept at all, if by some random chance, he had a social life, Betty didn't know anything about it, though she was certain, he could have his pick of most any woman, adding that, if she were younger, she would make a play for him herself.

"A girl could do much worse." Betty said with a wink and Callie laughed.

"I am sure a girl could do much worse, but...he seems like he can't relax."

"I think he could, if he gave himself a chance, but I will admit that he is very serious and he is very intense." Brooding and arrogant were the words Callie would have used, but she didn't, she hated to admit it, but she really liked the man and she actually admired him, though there was not a chance in hell she could work up the nerve to tell him as much, for fear he would somehow find fault with anything she said. "I know you think he doesn't like you very much, Callie, and the fact is, I don't blame you for thinking that, given how he reacted when you first come here, but in all reality, I am pretty such he has a higher opinion of you than you realize." She was sure he did, truth be told, just as she was sure Callie wasn't the only one stealing apperceive glances when the chance presented itself.

More than once she had noticed the reaction Logan had when Callie came into the room, easily smiling, looking perfectly at ease despite the fact that all that surrounded her was so unlike anything she had ever experience before. She simply seemed to blend in yet stand out, all at once, those that worked with her in the kitchen adored her and when she met some of the regulars that came to the shelter for food or a place to sleep, she easily conversed with them, never hinting in any manner that she believed herself to be somehow better or superior, because she didn't think, along those lines, Betty knew.

Of course, Logan never gave any outward sign that he had an interest in Callie, Betty only knew him well enough to pick up the signs and Callie had a boyfriend, a guy named Curtis Miller, that she had been dating for about six months. He was the son of an old friend of her late mother and Callie explained to Betty she had known him most of her life, he was about three years older, than she was. He worked with his father, at an accounting firm that his great grandfather had first established...Callie casually provided the information when Betty asked if she had anyone in her life and as she spoke, Betty realized she did it without any enthusiasm or even a hint of affection in her soft voice.