***
Quinton had finally collapsed on the stiff cot as the moon rose far enough to spill light into his cell. It brought shadows and texture to an otherwise sterile environment. He was finding it harder and harder to stay upset. His mind kept touching on Regina, and his body could still remember the feel of her skin. Best of all, Quinton realized, he had come clean. Come to clean to Regina, to Ralph, and to his family. The burden of living such a lie was finally lifted. Quinton still felt the weight of jail on his shoulders, but it was far lighter than the burden he had placed there himself.
It was ironic really. They had put him behind bars, but it was here that he realized what freedom truly was. Quinton knew he did not turn himself in solely for Regina or Michael. He had really done it for himself. There was only so much redemption you could obtain through words. The type Quinton needed could only be achieved through action. If that cost him a few months or even a few years in jail, then so be it. Quinton knew that he should have served time long ago for transgressions long past.
In this act of giving himself over to the authorities, he was purging himself of both old and new crimes alike. He wanted his future untarnished by the mistakes of that life. Quinton was neither an eco-terrorist nor a corporate turncoat. It took this cold cell with its smelly urinal to teach him that. There were other ways to make a living and help the environment. He no longer had to live his life in the extremes anymore. It was nice, even in Crow’s Landing’s jail, to just be himself.
Briefly, Quinton wondered what Regina was doing, but he did not dwell on it. The memory of their one night together was strong enough to carry him through until he saw her again. Regina’s promise still caressed his ear. Quinton could take whatever trials that lay ahead as long as she was waiting for him on the other side.
While looking up through the barred window, Quinton noticed that the red glow was fading from the sky, and the smoke seemed to be letting up. They must have gotten the fire out. The commotion outside died down, and you could hear the crickets again. Satisfied, Quinton shut his eyes and listened to the soft night sounds.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad night to be in jail.
And an even better night to be in love.
Indian Moon Page 21