Oz - A Short Story by Ann Warner Page B

dancing at
all.
    She liked to dance, especially with a
partner as competent as this man. She liked his voice as well,
especially the way he pronounced her name—Glynda. Making it sound
more musical than Glenda.
    She leaned back slightly to look at him. “So
how did a jock end up in genetics?”
    “I’m more interested in how a beautiful
woman ended up in biochemistry.”
    It was just a line. And she was not falling
for it. “I asked first.”
    He nodded in peaceful agreement. “A few
years ago I had a car smash. It forced me to rethink my life, and I
decided to have a go at university.”
    “Your limp. Is it because of the
accident?”
    “Yeah. Lost my right foot.”
    Surprised, she mis-stepped. His hand pulled
her gently but firmly back into position.
    “It gives a whole new meaning to that saying
about dancing as if you have two left feet.” She bit her lip.
Sometimes she let her sense of the absurd get away from her. “Not
that you do,” she added, looking to see how he’d taken it.
    He grinned a slow, lazy, wonderful grin that
made her heart do an odd little flip.
    He pulled her closer to maneuver around
another couple. His cheek brushed hers, smooth and soft, smelling
of soap and aftershave—something light and pleasant like a pine
forest on a warm day.
    “Your turn, Glenda Lewellen.”
    She tried to boil it down like he had. “I
had a bad case of ugly duckling syndrome, so books were my best
friends. I loved school. So much, I couldn’t stop going.”
    “And the ugly duckling grew into a colorful
swan.”
    He had to be commenting on her outfit. She
felt the quick surge of heat that meant she was blushing. “Steven
forgot to mention it was a pastel wedding.”
    He grinned at her. “You make the rest look
drab.”
    “They seem to be coping with it well.” She
tried to sound nonchalant, but it was becoming increasingly
difficult. The longer they danced, the more she was enjoying it.
And him. Time to bring everything back to earth. “So, why did you
pick genetics?”
    He shrugged. “Well it started as a lark.
Some of my mates bet me I couldn’t hack science. I had to show
them, didn’t I?” He gave her a self-deprecating grin. “In the
process I got hooked by the idea of knowing exactly who I am down
to the last base pair.”
    “So is that what you’re working on? Human
genes?”
    “Actually, our group is studying
stomatolites. They’re the first life-form on the planet—responsible
for starting everything off by releasing oxygen into the
prehistoric atmosphere.”
    Glenda blinked in surprise. “So how do you
get the DNA to study?”

    “Oh, the little bugger’s still alive and
kicking. Looks like a rock. Likely why it was overlooked for so
long.”
    “That’s hopeful, don’t you think? That
they’re still alive after so many billions of years.”
    “A bloody miracle,” he agreed, looking
solemn. Then he asked her what she was working on, and she told
him—without interruption this time.
    When the band took a break, instead of
releasing her, Geoff held onto her hand and led her outside to the
terrace. As he closed the door behind them, quiet replaced the
clamor of the reception.
    Glenda sighed with relief and walked over to
the short wall edging the terrace. She sat and eased her feet out
of her shoes, and wiggled her toes. In the distance, Lake Michigan
glimmered in the cool darkness.
    Geoff leaned against the wall next to her.
“So was your favorite book as a little girl The Wizard of Oz?”
    “Oh, I see,” she said, after a moment. “The
good witch’s name was Glinda with an i. My name is Glenda with an
e. Besides, she was blonde.” Growing up with straight dark hair,
brown eyes, and a stick-thin body, Glenda had always felt she
looked more like the wicked stepmothers than the princesses. She
still felt that way sometimes.
    “Don’t care much for blondes myself,” Geoff
said. “Too delicate. Can’t handle sun.”
    “That’s a peculiar reason.”
    “Not when you’re