Shadow Puppets (Ender, Book 7) (Shadow Saga)

possibilities," said Graff.
    "No, just the unbearable ones. I'm staying, Mr. Colonization Minister. You'll have to find your completely inappropriate middle-aged recruits somewhere else."
    "Actually, you're not inappropriate. You're still of child-bearing age."
    "Having children has brought me such joy," said Theresa, "that it's really marvelous to contemplate having more of them."
    "I know perfectly well how much you've sacrificed for your children, and how much you love them. And I knew coming here that you wouldn't want to go."
    "So you have soldiers waiting to take me with you by force? You already have my husband in custody?"
    "No, no," said Graff. "I think you're right not to go."
    "Oh."
    "But Peter asked me to protect you, so I had to offer. No, I think it's a good thing for you to stay."
    "And why is that?"
    "Peter has many allies," said Graff. "But no friends."
    "Not even you?"
    "I'm afraid I studied him too closely in his childhood to take any of his present charisma at face value."
    "He does have that, doesn't he. Charisma. Or at least charm."
    "At least as much as Ender, when he chooses to use it."
    Hearing Graff speak of Ender -- of the kind of young man Ender had become before he was pitched out of the solar system in a colony ship after saving the human race -- filled Theresa with familiar, but no less bitter, regrets. Graff knew Ender Wiggin at age seven and ten and twelve, years when Theresa's only links to her youngest, most vulnerable child were a few photographs and fading memories and the ache in her arms where she could remember holding him, and the last lingering sensation of his little arms flung around her neck.
    "Even when you brought him back to Earth," said Theresa to Graff, "you didn't let us see him. You took Val to him, but not his father, not me."
    "I'm sorry," said Graff. "I didn't know he would never come home at war's end. Seeing you would have reminded him that there was someone in the world who was supposed to protect him and take care of him."
    "And that would have been a bad thing?"
    "The toughness we needed from Ender was not the person he wanted to be. We had to protect it. Letting him see Valentine was dangerous enough."
    "Are you so sure that you were right?"
    "Not sure at all. But Ender won the war, and we can never go back and try it another way to see if it would have worked as well."
    "And I can never go back and try to find some way through all of this that doesn't end up filling me with resentment and grief whenever I see you or even think of you."
    Graff said nothing for the longest time.
    "If you're waiting for me to apologize," began Theresa.
    "No, no," said Graff. "I was trying to think of any apology I could make that wouldn't be laughably inadequate. I never fired a gun in the war, but I still caused casualties, and if it's any consolation, whenever I think of you and your husband I am also filled with regret."
    "Not enough."
    "No, I'm sure not," said Graff. "But I'm afraid my deepest regrets are for the parents of Bonzo Madrid, who put their son into my hands and got him back in a box."
    Theresa wanted to fling a papaya at him and smear it all over his face. "Reminding me that I'm the mother of a killer?"
    "Bonzo was the killer, ma'am," said Graff. "Ender defended himself. You entirely mistook my meaning. I'm the one who allowed Bonzo to be alone with Ender. I, not Ender, am the one responsible for his death. That's why I feel more regret toward the Madrid family than toward you. I've made a lot of mistakes. And I can never be sure which ones were necessary or harmless or even left us better off than if I hadn't made them."
    "How do you know you're not making a mistake now, letting me and John Paul stay?"
    "As I said, Peter needs friends."
    "But does the world need Peter?" asked Theresa.
    "We don't always get the leader that we want," said Graff. "But sometimes we get to choose among the leaders that we have."
    "And how will the choice be made?" asked Theresa. "On the battlefield or the ballot box?"
    "Maybe," said Graff, "by the poisoned fig or the sabotaged car."
    Theresa took his meaning at once. "You may be sure we'll keep an eye on Peter's food and his transportation."
    "What," said Graff, "you'll carry all his food on your person, buying it from different grocers every day, and your husband will live in his car, never sleeping?"
    "We retired young. One has to fill the empty hours."
    Graff laughed. "Good luck, then. I'm sure you'll do all that needs doing.