Disclaimer: If you recognize them, they belong to Janet.

Learning to Live

Stephanie stepped outside. Her shift was over and she was ready to head home. Walking over to her Harley, she placed her purse, her briefcase and her small duffle in the large saddle bags. Unhooking her helmet, she placed it over her head. She straddled the bike with an air of confidence, squeezed the clutch with her left hand and then pressed the starter button with her right thumb. The engine rumbled to life.

A small smile came over her face. Kicking back the side stand, she put it into gear, and pulled out. Riding along the coast highway, her stressed muscles began to relax. Her straight honey brown hair hung out from under the helmet and her brown eyes gazed from behind her goggles.

Every day she felt this way, she took a very long, long, ride home. The tassels on her motorcycle jacket flapped in the wind. Her chaps kept her legs warm from the cool ocean breeze. Her deerskin gloves protected her hands from the raw wind and her body relaxed. Life was good.

Feeling much better, Stephanie pulled into her garage and closed the door with her fob. Beside the bike was a newish blue Honda Civic. Stephanie walked to the door into her townhouse, unlocked it and disconnecting the alarm she stepped in.

Her cat, Q sat waiting for her at the door. She was a calico with an attitude. Stephanie had found her laying on her front step one morning. She was tiny, dirty and bleeding. Stephanie had taken her in and cleaned her up. She had taken her to the neighborhood vet and had her checked over. The vet had said she was about four months old and it looked like she had had a run in with a dog. Stephanie nursed her back to health.

She had put up Found Cat signs in the immediate neighborhood but there was no response. Stephanie suspected she had been living wild for some time. It appeared that Stephanie had another pet. Now they were best of friends and Q slept on her pillow by her head every night.

Stephanie put her bags down on the hallway bench with a sigh. Today had been a bit of a downer. One of her clients had just been sentenced for another crime and she was now looking at some serious prison time.

Annabelle Martin was a former ho who had tried to turn her life around. Stephanie had related to her right off the bat, knowing Lula and her struggles. Annabelle had been doing so well, but had come upon hard times. Elizabeth Fry Boston had tried to help her look for another job and a new place to stay.

Unfortunately, Annabelle had taken matters into her own hands. She had obtained a gun and she had attempted an armed robbery of a convenience store late at night. Unfortunately, there was an off duty police officer in the confectionary picking up some ice cream on the way home. He tackled her and she was arrested on the spot.

She had just been sentenced to five years in the women's penitentiary .

Stephanie had spoken to Annabelle after the sentence was handed down and before she was taken away. Annabelle was stoic when she met with her. She felt her life was worthless . Her only friends were in the ho community. She was living in a women's homeless shelter and had lost her job again. She had no money.

Annabelle tried to reassure Stephanie that she appreciated all that she had done for her. Stephanie's heart broke when Annabelle asked her not to visit. She looked so despondent.

Stephanie was worried she might do something foolish while in prison. She had contacted the Sherriff with her concerns. They promised to advise the warden but expressed doubt that much would be done. The prisons were full of depressed prisoners and she was just one more on the list.

Stephanie puttered in the kitchen. She had learned to do some cooking and had some definite comfort food favorites. Today looked like it was going to be mac and cheese. She put the ingredients together and popped the casserole in the oven then sat on the sofa with Q beside her. Her hand stroked the cat and immediately a ragged purr was heard. Q had a strong voice.

Stephanie thought back through the past seven months. She had stepped off the plane from New York with a whole new identity. She was now the brand new owner of a mid size townhome, a used car, a motorcycle and a good job. Boston was a great place to live. She had spent her time off getting to know her new city and feel comfortable in it.

Stephanie was busy. She worked full time with the Elizabeth Fry Society . She also volunteered at a senior's home down the street. She was taking self defense courses to keep up her skills and was enrolled in a zumba class for her cardio. She had no time to sit down and feel sorry for herself which was what she wanted. She wanted to fall into bed exhausted and wake up the next day with things to do.

Work was fulfilling with little accomplishments along the way. Her clients were generally willing to try new things to turn their lives around and the wall of honor was growing each week with lots of success stories. Success was a relative thing. It could be getting short listed for a job and being interviewed. It could be getting out of a bad living situation into a more secure environment. It could be making contact with a family member who had previously pushed them away.

She was a member of a group of Harley riders who loved to ride on the weekend. They would meet for coffee and ride somewhere for lunch. It was a loose group of friends. There was no stress if one could not make it and if it rained, well they would re-schedule. It was an easy association.

She answered to Sandy now with ease. Her handler, Maurice only checked in with her every month or so. He had mentioned that he was getting ready to leave her on her own with only a phone call needed for some emergency. She felt comfortable with her lot in life. Her incarceration and interrogation was now only a distant memory.

Knowing that her life would never be easy, Stephanie wondered how long her fairy tale life would continue. She had an uneasy feeling.