Just like that, his cover was blown--and he had done it to himself, by telling her that he was in Ender's jeesh. What was he thinking? There were only eleven of them. "Obviously, there's someone who wants to kill me," he said. "If you tell anyone I came here, it will help him do it."
"I won't tell. But it was careless of you to come here."
"I had to see," said Bean, wondering if that was anything like a true explanation.
She didn't wonder. "That's absurd," she said. "You wouldn't risk your life to come here without a reason." And then it came together in her mind. "Peter's not home right now."
"I know," Bean said. "I was just with him at the university." And then he realized--there was no reason for her to think he was coming to see Peter, unless she had some idea of what Peter was doing. "You know," he said.
She closed her eyes, realizing now what she had confessed. "Either we are both very great fools," she said, "or we must have trusted each other at once, to let our guard down so readily."
"We're only fools if the other can't be trusted," said Bean.
"We'll find out, won't we?" Then she smiled. "No use leaving you standing out here on the street, for people to wonder why a child your size is not in school."
He followed her up the walkway to the front door. When Ender left home, did he walk down this path? Bean tried to imagine the scene. Ender never came home. Like Bonzo, the other casualty of the war. Bonzo, killed; Ender, missing in action; and now Bean coming up the walk to Ender's home. Only this was no sentimental visit with a grieving family. It was a different war now, but war it was, and she had another son at risk these days.
She was not supposed to know what he was doing. Wasn't that the whole point of Peter's having to camouflage his activities by pretending to be a student?
She made him a sandwich without even asking, as if she simply assumed that a child would be hungry. It was, of all things, that plain American cliche, peanut butter on white bread. Had she made such sandwiches for Ender?
"I miss him," said Bean, because he knew that would make her like him.
"If he had been here," said Mrs. Wiggin, "he probably would have been killed. When I read what . . . Locke . . . wrote about that boy from Rotterdam, I couldn't imagine he would have let Ender live. You knew him, too, didn't you. What's his name?"
"Achilles," said Bean.
"You're in hiding," she said. "But you seem so young."
"I travel with a nun named Sister Carlotta," said Bean. "We claim we're grandmother and grandson."
"I'm glad you're not alone."
"Neither is Ender."
Tears came to her eyes. "I suppose he needed Valentine more than we did."
On impulse--again, an impulsive act instead of a calculated decision--Bean reached out and set his hand in hers. She smiled at him.
The moment passed. Bean realized again how dangerous it was to be here. What if this house was under surveillance? The I.F. knew about Peter--what if they were observing the house?
"I should go," said Bean.
"I'm glad you came by," she said. "I must have wanted very much to talk to someone who knew Ender without being envious of him."
"We were all envious," said Bean. "But we also knew he was the best of us."
"Why else would you envy him, if you didn't think he was better?"
Bean laughed. "Well, when you envy somebody, you tell yourself he isn't really better after all."
"So . . . did the other children envy his abilities?" asked Mrs. Wiggin. "Or only the recognition he received?"
Bean didn't like the question, but then remembered who it was that was asking. "I should turn that question back on you. Did Peter envy his abilities? Or only the recognition?"
She stood there, considering whether to answer or not. Bean knew that family loyalty worked against her saying anything. "I'm not just idly asking," Bean said. "I don't know how much you know about what Peter's doing . . ."
"We read everything he publishes," said Mrs. Wiggin. "And then we're very careful to act as if we hadn't a clue what's going on in the world."