Carry Me Home by Rosalind James Page A

for the land,” he told Zoe. “How I buy out Luke and Theresa’s share of the farm.”
    “Okay,” she said, although she wasn’t much wiser.
    “He was telling me at Easter,” Luke went on, “that it wasn’t looking now like you’d have kids, and what did I think? Like it was such a sad story, like he was fooling me. With him counting the zeroes, adding it all up in that calculator he calls a brain.”
    There was that tension right back again in Cal’s face, and Zoe wondered why Luke couldn’t see it. She waited for Cal to answer, but he didn’t, so she spoke up.
    “Wait,” she said. “Back up for me. I’m sure you both know exactly what you’re talking about, but I’m completely confused. Who are you? You said you were a farmer. And you’re talking about buying people out, and million-dollar donations . . . how?”
    “Not a million,” he said. “And I am a farmer. Want to see my farm? Amber waves of grain and everything.”
    “More like black contour lines of dirt right now,” Luke said. “Not sure how impressed she’ll be.”
    “Then . . .” Zoe said. “What exactly are you growing out there? Or don’t I want to know?”
    Luke laughed again. “Before he was a farmer,” he said, “or before he took over the farm, let’s say, he was a little bit of a football player. What, you didn’t know?”
    “No, I didn’t know. How would I know?”
    “Oh, nothing,” Luke said. “Had his ugly face on TV every Sunday for quite a few years there, that’s all.”
    “In a helmet,” Cal pointed out.
    “And your name in the paper. A fair number of commercials, too,” Luke said.
    “Mostly during football games,” Cal said. “And somehow, I doubt the professor’s a big fan.”
    “No,” she said. “Not a fan.”
    Dr. Oppenheimer was approaching them now, though, even as the speeches continued, and Zoe fell silent as he touched Cal on the arm. Cal turned, and the president shook his hand again, chuckling.
    “You caught me off guard there,” Dr. Oppenheimer said. “Not much of a speech.”
    “Leave ’em wanting more,” Cal agreed. “That’s the idea. Do you know Zoe Santangelo? Dr. Santangelo was just giving me some ideas on how we could do more to encourage women to pursue the hard sciences. Making some really cogent points there.”
    Zoe gaped at him, then snapped her mouth shut. Cogent points ?
    “I haven’t had the pleasure, I don’t believe,” Dr. Oppenheimer said smoothly, shaking Zoe’s hand. “But I think I recognize the name. One of our newer faculty, is that right?”
    “Uh . . . yes,” she said, then got hold of herself. “Yes, I am. In the Geological Sciences Department, just hired this year as an assistant professor.”
    “That’s right,” Dr. Oppenheimer said. “The first female professor we’ve had there, I believe. I remember the appointment. Quite a coup for us, getting you.”
    Yeah, right. Such a coup that he hadn’t had a clue who she was.
    “And I was thinking,” Cal said, “you were mentioning a committee, Frank, when we spoke earlier. Seems to me that a couple of younger women faculty members like Dr. Santangelo here, with boots on the ground, you could say, might have a lot to contribute. Ideas about how women can break down those invisible barriers, or how we can help remove them.”
    “An excellent idea.” The president beamed. “We’ll be setting up that working group right away, and we’ll be looking for members who can give us the view from the trenches, as it were. I hope I can count on you to be one of them, Dr. Santangelo. Zoe, if I may. And please, call me Frank.”
    “Yes,” Zoe stammered. “Of course. Frank.” She didn’t dare look at Cal. “I’d be happy to.”
    “I was thinking about the high school as well,” Cal went on. “Get the students thinking about it ahead of time, get them aware of the opportunities out there, open up those AP Physics, AP Calculus classes to more of them. Ruin the curve for the guys, of