"I won't."

We proceeded through the reception area and down two halls before we arrived at Ashley's classroom. Mobiles of the sun, moon, earth, and stars hung from the pale yellow ceiling and walls, and giant cut-outs of a flower, bird, and tree separated the large, sunny space into smaller areas.

In the middle of the red-carpeted room rested a handful of miniature tables and chairs and one tiny house with an extra-wide doorway and no roof. At the far end of the room, a wall of windows opened onto a courtyard full of grass, trees, and playground equipment.

Patrice introduced me to Jean McNaulty, the early childhood specialist, and to Ashley, who had moved to stand in the protective shadow of her mother. I shook hands with both of them, firmly matching Jean's grip and lowering myself to meet Ashley's solemn brown-eyed gaze. After I stood again, she continued to gape over thick, long lashes, her mouth partially open.

I flashed her a broad smile. "Where are your sunglasses?"

She scanned the room as Jean patted her pocket. "We can only wear glasses when we're outside, right, Ashley?"

Ashley wrinkled her nose and pointedly stared at the eyeglasses on my face.

Jean countered, "Not those kind of glasses. Kris needs those all the time so she can see. I was talking about sunglasses, the kind with dark lenses that you wear for fun."

The explanation seemed to satisfy Ashley, and she transferred her attention to a little girl who rapidly approached.

Imitating a power walk, the youngster wore a dirty white T-shirt, blue jeans she had outgrown, and red cowboy boots. "Who are you?"

Before I could answer, Jean intervened. "Erin, it's not polite to approach people you don't know."

Unrepentant, the young charge squinted. "What's she doing here?"

"Her name is Kris, and she's a friend of Ashley's mom's. She's going to spend the morning with us."

"I got a star for not hitting."

She held up her right hand, and I admired it. "That's great! Do you get one of those every day?"

"Nope. I hit a lot. Wanna play cars?" She grabbed my fingers and pulled me to the center of the room.

For direction, I turned to Jean, who said, "That's a good idea. We'll meet up with you at snack time."

In the next hour, Erin and I drove miniature versions of tanks, plows, motorcycles, sports cars, and cranes. The three-foot semi truck, big enough to support Erin's weight, was her favorite. She kept insisting I push her around on it, which I did until I was exhausted. Between rounds on the big-wheeler, I rested by telling stories involving one of the other vehicles. My break always ended with Erin's shrieking command, "I go zoom."

Several times, I propelled her by the computer station where Ashley and Patrice were working on shapes and colors. Whenever we came close to her, Ashley stared at me.

Jean's "Snacktime!" shout came as a relief to my aching back muscles.

At the large plastic table, I met Tyler, a three-year-old autistic boy who had spent the morning working with Jean. Out of the corner of my eye, I had caught sight of his most common response to her lessons: frustration, which he usually displayed by going limp.

During the meal, Tyler indicated which foods he wanted by pointing and making guttural noises. Ashley reached for her favorites but never made a sound. Erin ate a little of everythinga"Fruit Loops, barbecue potato chips, raisins, and orange slicesa"chatting between, and often during, bites.

She told me bits and pieces about the homes she had lived in. She also informed me her grandmother had given her the red cowboy boots, and I had better not touch them. After I told her how pretty they were, she took my hand and placed it on one of the soles.

At this, Ashley rose from her place across the table, came around, and tried to sit on my chair.

Patrice followed, attempting to lead her back to her original seat, but Ashley wouldn't budge.

"Maybe you could move her chair over here," I suggested. "Would you like that Ashley? You can sit by me, and I'll touch those nice white tennis shoes you're wearing."

This must have suited her, because although she wouldn't soften her deep frown, she did become less agitated.

Patrice brought the stool, placed it six inches from me, and in no time, Ashley had a hand on my knee, and Erin sat in my lap.

Shortly after, Patrice took Ashley and Erin out to the courtyard while Jean and I cleared the dishes. Tyler, in an almost catatonic state, lay on a red beanbag near the windows.

"You're so patient," I said, picking raisins from the floor.

Jean wiped the table. "That's because I go home at four. Also, I get weekends off and thirty days of vacation. My job is easy. The people I admire are the family members. Did you know Lauren?"

"We never met."

"She was a wonderful person. Her death was hard on all of us, especially the children."

I poured leftover cereal back into the box. "Do you think Ashley understands Lauren's gone for good?"

"Oh, yes. She's a perceptive child. We've all spent extra time trying to counsel her through the loss, but it's been hard to reach her. She's fallen back several levels in terms of developmental progress."

"Do you think Ashley will ever speak?"

"We're hoping so. At this point, we're not sure if she can't talk or won't. Her hearing is almost perfect with the hearing aids, and her vocal cords aren't damaged. We know she understands language, but she hasn't used it. Once a day, Beth, our speech therapist, works with her, and she's heard her make all kinds of soundsa"she'll laugh, cry, growl, and groana"but she's never formed a word. And it's not just her lack of speech that baffles us. Sometimes, it seems as if she comprehends complex ideas, and other times, she struggles with the simplest task."

I watched through the window as Patrice guided Erin and Ashley down the slide. "How come Tyler didn't go outside?"

"He has a slight cold, and his mom asked us to keep him in."

"But it's supposed to hit ninety today."

"I know." She shrugged. "You should see him in the winter. She stuffs him into a thousand dollars worth of ski clothes, and he can barely move. It takes us five minutes to set him free," she said, smiling wryly.

"Is it hard dealing with the parents?"

"Sometimes, but other aspects of the job are worse."

"Which ones?"

It took her a moment to answer. "I think the hardest part is knowing most of these kids are here as a result of abuse. We see lots of children because of fetal alcohol exposure, which is a leading cause of developmental problems. And Erin is here because her mother used crack when she was pregnant. The mother got high, and now her daughter, whom she immediately gave up, is extremely high-strung and prone to violence. Erin's only four, and she's been in and out of eleven foster homes because no one can cope with her temper. It's sad really."

"Is the abuse that widespread?"

"Absolutely. The general public has no idea what the long-term effects of drug, alcohol, and child abuse are, what a price these children pay for the rest of their lives. I see it all the time at our reunions.

Once a year, we invite back kids who have been through our program, and it's heartbreaking."

"Why?"

She sighed. "When they're this age, there's still hope, and for the most part, despite their disabilities, they're accepted. The older they get, though, even with our best attempts at integration, the less they're welcomed. They fall farther behind, and they have a tough time of it." Jean folded the wash cloth and moved to a green beanbag near Tyler, who seemed oblivious. I sat on the floor next to them.

"I shouldn't complain. I'm lucky to work here. We have a staff ratio of two to one, which is terrific, and we do good work."

Jean's last words were lost in a burst of banging. Startled, I flipped around and saw Ashley pounding on the glass, eyes riveted on me. Patrice crept up behind her, waved at us, and captured her in a bear hug. She carried a flailing Ashley back to the far edge of the playground and put her in a large red wagon. By the time the wheels were in motion, Ashley was smiling again.

I turned to Jean. "She's incredible."

"For some reason, Ashley's taken with you. She's not usually this involved with other people, but you have a way with children. Do you have any of your own?"

I shook my head.

"You should consider getting involved here. We'd love to have you. If you're interested, we can always use more ESPs."

"What's that?"

"An educational surrogate parent. You can be an ESP for a child whose parents or guardians are unknown or unavailable. After receiving training, you oversee the child's educational programs. We have a specialist on staff who conducts the trainings, Wendy Henderson. I'd introduce you, but she's on vacation this week."

"Hmm."

"Or, if that's too much commitment, you could volunteer here. We can always use a hand, especially with field trips, which we're trying to do more frequently."

"Where do you go?"

"Simple places, like the grocery store or park or zoo. A lot of times a mother will ask us to work with her child in a different setting, to reinforce appropriate behavior."

"I could do that, go to the zoo, I mean."

"Next week's the grocery store," she said pointedly.

"Really? Okay, I'll have to check my schedule," I said vaguely.

"Great! It's a fun trip," Jean said, rising to greet Patrice, Erin, and Ashley as they came through the door.

In short order, Jean decided she and Erin would learn to count with blocks, while Tyler visited the physical therapist, and Ashley, Patrice, and I played house.

Without prompting, Ashley shuffled into the plastic hut and opened canvas curtains. That accomplished, she leaned out an opening and pointed to me.

Patrice translated. "She wants you to sit in the house with her, but you don't have to. It's pretty cramped in there."

"I don't mind."

"Here, take the stool," she said, handing me a round disk attached to three ten-inch legs. "It's much more comfortable."

I crawled inside the house and sat on the single piece of furniture I had carted in. My left elbow dangled out a window, and my head poked out the roof. "There!" I said to Ashley. "Are you happy now? I am. Thanks for inviting me. It's pretty neat. A little bit cold, since our roof seems to have fallen off, but we'll get by."

She smiled.

"Let's see, what should we do next?"

She didn't respond, but I had her full attention.

"I know. We'll call someone," I said, taking the pretend phone off the hook. "But who should we call?"

I snapped my fingers. "I've got it! We'll call Santa and ask for Christmas presents."

I made a big production of dialing the telephone. "Hello, Santa, this is Kris and Ashley. We're calling to tell you what we want fora""

I stopped mid-sentence and, in mock embarrassment, plastered a hand over my mouth. "What?! Oh, you're right, it is a little early. Sorry to bother you on vacation. Tell Mrs. Claus hi for us."

I replaced the receiver, raised both hands to my head, and slowly moved back and forth. Ashley eyes bulged as I feigned shock. "Can you believe that?" I said, grinning, "Santa told me to tell Ashley we have to call back in five months. It's too early. He's not taking orders yet."

I laughed and laughed, and after a few seconds, I felt like bursting when I heard her join in. I'm not sure if she even understood the humor, but peals of happiness bounced off the walls.

At her command, a slight tilt of the head toward the phone, I called everyone else I could think ofa"the Easter bunny, Donald Duck, Little Mermaid, Big Birda"and told them what had happened to me and Ashley when we tried to call Santa in June.

Every time I re-explained the situation, I punctuated my points with loud guffaws, and every time, she giggled with me.

I debated who to call next, when Patrice poked her head in the far window. "It looks like you two are having a good time." To her daughter, she said, "Ashley, it's time for you to take a nap, and Kris has to go home now."

"We're on our way," I replied, crawling out.

I turned to help Ashley, and my chest hurt when I saw her dejection. She grabbed my right index finger and wouldn't release it. Gently, I led her through the doorway, and outside the roofless house, Patrice pleaded with her, but she stubbornly refused to let go of my hand.

I knelt beside Ashley and whispered, "I have to go home now, but I'll come back and see you again."

She wouldn't relent.

I put my other hand over hers and clasped it tightly. "You know I will, don't you? Who else is going to help you call Santa? I'll come back next week, and we'll do it together, okay? But right now, you have to take a nap."

After I hugged her and added, "I promise I'll be back," she finally let go.

I spun around before she could see the tears pooling in my eyes.

12.

Outside the building, Patrice dug in her purse and handed me a Kleenex. "I'm sorry Ashley wouldn't let you leave. She's really attached. I've never seen her laugh like that with anyone except Lauren."

"You don't have to apologize. I could have stayed the whole afternoon."

"You meant it, didn't you, when you said you'd see her again?"

"Of course. I'll come next week and help out with the field trip to the grocery store, if you're agreeable."

"I'd love that." She hesitated. "But isn't it difficult, with your brother and all?"