In Caydance's memory,
still smarting from Art Department criticism of her paper on Black Mountain College, she was sitting in Moffitt Library, surrounded by dusty buckram bound journals, when suddenly, as if summoned by the gods of escape from research, Edelira appeared in the library. "Dancing." she said. That was all she needed to say, and they were off.
"Remember", she said to Edelira on the telephone, "the weekend when I talked you into to going camping at a campground outside of Monterey Bay, but we ended up spending the night in the home of a fishing boat captain, who gallantly rescued you from an unaccustomed night in a tent. What I mean -- but lost in memory am not expressing well -- is that it would be wonderful to have you back in California, but I'm worried about the possibility that you will leave your dream job in Little Havana. Just for...”
"Just for a man?", Edelira finished the sentence. "Not just for any man. Just for Juanjose"
