Hot Chocolate for Christmas Eve

Because they had chosen foster parenting over adoption, adopting Ethan hadn't occurred to them, but thanks Connie's growing bond of motherhood and Paul's love for both her and Ethan, the notion of adopting Ethan held no terrors. Early the following Monday morning, they got an appointment with the case worker to discuss Ethan's case.

The case worker was taken aback by their proposal to adopt. She had seen similar situations in the past end badly for everyone involved, and didn't think it was wise. She expressed her reservations, ending with what she assumed would be the telling factor. "And the payments from the state would stop, of course."

At first they couldn't believe that this woman thought they were mercenaries, caring for Ethan just for the stipend. Starting the very first month, they had deposited the checks in a savings account just for Ethan, thinking of it vaguely as a college fund. Their disbelief soon turned to outrage.

The case worker watched the emotions play across their faces, and wondered if she had made a mistake. "Well, um, I mean, you know...the added expense of a child, especially one with such behavioral problems—"

"Shut up." Connie's voice was menacingly calm.

PAUL WAS startled. He'd never heard her speak that way to anyone. She continued talking quietly in a monotone.

"You have no idea what Ethan means to us. I could try to explain it to you, but I shouldn't have to. Besides, I'm not sure you'd understand. Your job is to do what is best for that baby, and we're what's best for Ethan. I know it, Paul knows it, our pastor knows it, you should know it. Hell, I think Ethan knows it, and he isn't even a year old yet."

She took a deep breath, and rushed on before the woman could respond. "Now, let's try again. Paul and I love Ethan as much as if he were our own son. We love him so much, in fact, we want him to be our own son. We want to adopt him. Would you please do your job and tell us how to proceed?"

Ringing endorsements came from Fr. Alberto, their pediatrician, even from Sheriff (no longer just Deputy) Sam Goode and his wife. In less time than usual, the paperwork and legal steps were completed. And so it came to pass, Ethan became Ethan Hansen, and happiness reigned in the Hansen home.

Although they were happy that Ethan was their son, they were still upset about the case worker who so badly misjudged them. They wrote a letter to Social Services explaining why they were no longer interested in being foster parents.

The faceless bureaucrats who ran Social Services responded in their usual enlightened fashion: unable to fire the case worker because of her union contract, they reassigned her to a distant office where she spent her days compiling detailed monthly reports that no one ever read. They didn't try to persuade Connie and Paul to resume foster parenting.

That all changed with a phone call a week after Ethan's third birthday.

—Mrs. Hansen, this is Roger Miller, the new Regional Manager of Social Services. First, please accept my apologies for the insensitive treatment you have received. That most certainly did not reflect how grateful we are for the selfless dedication of each and every one our foster parent volunteers.

"Thank you, Mr. Miller. We were pleased to be able to help, and Ethan is a greater reward than we ever could have imagined." Now, what do you want?

—We're delighted your experience has been so good, and wish only that all our cases would turn out so well.

He waited for her to respond without giving a reason for his call. I've played this game before. She fell back on her experience in tax audit negotiations with the IRS: let silence prod him to get to the point. It worked.

—You're probably wondering why I'm calling.

Connie still didn't respond. No shit, Sherlock.

He paused again, but briefly.

—Would it be possible for you and Mr. Hansen to come to our office sometime this week? There's a matter I—well, some of the staff and I—would like to discuss with you. It really isn't something we want to discuss over the telephone.

"I'm not sure, I'll have to speak with my husband first. I'm sure you understand, our last experience with your office wasn't the most pleasant. That's an understatement.

—I quite understand. Please call me and let me know your decision.

She was curious what they wanted to talk about and so was Paul, so she did call back. Two days later, they drove to the Social Services building. The receptionist ushered them almost immediately to a small conference room. Miller, another man, and a woman stood up.

Miller greeted them and introduced the others: Sharon Fleming, a psychiatrist, and Glenn Williams, the training manager. They all shook hands and sat down. Miller had picked up on Connie's negotiation experience during their phone call and got right to the point.

"We have a child in desperate need of the wonderful talents you showed with Ethan. After three failed placements with her, we're running out of options. We—"

Connie couldn't contain herself. "What? You placed a baby with three different families?"

"No, Rose isn't a baby, she's seven years old, almost eight. She was sexually abused by a succession of her mother's boyfriends for over three years. She doesn't trust anyone can't stand to be touched, and doesn't speak."

HE TURNED to Sharon, cuing her to describe the situation. "None of the other families could deal with Rose, even though we did our best to explain what they could expect. The longest placement was four months. The constant change has exacerbated Rose's defense mechanisms. She's upset by most physical contact, especially from men. She eats reluctantly but only sparingly, and hardly ever speaks.

"She exhibits many of the behaviors of autism, but more likely she's suffering from a form of PTSD. Several therapists, including me, have tried to help her, but she doesn't coöperate." Sharon opened the laptop in front of her.

"We shot several videos of her interaction with two of the foster families during placement, her response to therapy sessions, and just sitting alone. With your permission, I'd like to get us all some coffee or tea or soft drinks, then watch about 20 minutes of edited video."

Connie—What, no popcorn?—and Paul looked at each other and nodded. Paul responded for them. "Sure, that would be fine." Glenn asked what they wanted, then came back shortly with a tray of drinks and pastries. Sharon started the video, which appeared on a large screen at the end of the room.

It was unsettling, to say the least. There was no violence, no shouting or crying, just scene after scene of a solemn little girl seemingly unaware of the people who talked with her, offered her gifts, or set food before her. She flinched whenever a woman touched her, although she would finally permit some contact, but curled into a fetal position whenever a man would even come near her. Except for the occasional sound of adult voices, it may as well have been a silent movie.

Paul spoke first. "What makes you think we could accomplish anything if all these others, even the professionals, have failed? We have no training, we're not miracle workers."

Glenn joined the conversation. "Your experience with Ethan has become the core of one of our major training modules. Your identities, of course, including Ethan's, aren't revealed, but the progression from an almost-permanently anxious and unhappy baby to an apparently normal infant boy is clearly illustrated.

"The training exercises include examples of how you both, but especially Connie, used soothing words, loving care, and patience to bring him back to being a happy baby. Especially the patience. That had to have been the hardest—"

"No, it wasn't hard." Connie was adamant. "Love is patient, love is kind. We didn't have any alternative, really. Ethan was hurting, so we did everything we could think of to help. We'd wait, then do it again, and just kept at it until it got better. I'm not saying it was easy, just...it was the right thing to do because we love him."

Their heart had gone out to the solemn little girl they saw in the video. When they said they were inclined to accept the responsibility, Sharon said Rose would need significant therapy in addition to their love and care, but assured them the state would pay the entire cost. She started to add "in addition to—" but Roger quickly interrupted to avoid any repeat of the earlier faux pas about foster parent stipends.

Sharon took them to see Rose in a nursery room filled with bright colors, child-sized furniture, toys and games galore. A nature show played quietly on a television in one corner, but Rose was sitting in a chair facing a wall that bore only a poster of a circus clown. She didn't acknowledge their presence.

Sharon spoke to her gently. "Hello, Rose. You're looking well. These people would like to meet you." Rose didn't respond. Sharon asked Connie to face Rose. "This is Mrs. Hansen. She's the mother of a little boy named Ethan." She gestured for Paul to do the same. "And this is Mr. Hansen, Mrs. Hansen's husband. They both love their son very much" Again, no reaction from Rose.

Despite all the discouraging signs, Connie and Paul again felt a calling and agreed to take Rose. It would take a couple of days to get her ready, including several sessions with Sharon to prepare her for yet another change and set the stage for ongoing therapy sessions. When they went to pick Rose up two days later, Sharon led her out to their car carrying a suitcase. Rose was wearing a small backpack and carrying a doll.

When she was strapped into the car seat, Connie turned around to speak to Rose. "We're so happy you're coming to our house for a while, Rose. You'll have your own room and books to read and a television, even a computer if you want to use it." The response was the silence Connie and Paul would soon give anything to be broken by Rose's voice.

THEY FELT like they were lost in a foreign land and didn't know the language. Rose stayed in her room except to go to the bathroom. She never spoke, never smiled, never gave any indication she was aware of their presence. As Sharon had recommended, for the first two weeks Connie brought Rose's meals to her room, then left so Rose could decide what to eat (or not eat) without anyone pressuring her.

The first week, she ate bits and pieces of the food, but always drank the milk and occasionally ate the dessert if it was sliced apples or bananas. She was getting enough nourishment to keep Connie and Paul from worrying too much.

Dressing, undressing, bathing, and bedtime were even more challenging. The first night, following Sharon's advice, Connie showed Rose where her clothes were, where the bathroom was, how the bathtub worked, her towels, toothbrush, and toothpaste. They returned to Rose's room, where Connie laid out a pair of pajamas, then said goodnight, left, and closed the door.

Connie checked three times to see if Rose was okay, but no matter how quietly she opened the door the hall light would reflect off her wide-open eyes and Connie would quietly close the door. In the morning, Connie found the bed made, the pajamas and clothes Rose had worn neatly folded by the pillow.

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings Connie drove Rose to the Social Service building for her therapy sessions. After each session, Sharon would give Rose a box of juice and take her to the playroom, where Rose would sit facing the wall with the clown poster. Connie and Sharon would then share a cup of coffee and talk about how things were going.

It didn't fool Connie. She knew the coffee klatches with Sharon were thinly disguised therapy sessions, but didn't mind. She welcomed them, actually. Rose's continued silence was unnerving, and Connie was beginning to doubt whether she and Paul could ever help Rose.

Toward the end of the second week, Rose was eating almost everything. On Friday, she brought the dinner tray back to the kitchen and returned to her room without speaking. Connie wept for joy. Paul held her, stroked her hair, then murmured "Maybe love does conquer all."

For the next couple of weeks, Rose continued bringing her trays, soon from all three meals, to the kitchen. Up to this point, Connie had been following their bedtime routine. Encouraged by what she considered a breakthrough with the trays, Connie waited one evening until she saw Rose's bedroom light go off, then opened the door. Rose was getting into bed and looked startled when Connie came in.

"I wondered if you'd like me to read you a story before you go to sleep." Rose hesitated, then nodded and got under the covers. Connie brought over several books. Rose pointed to one, then Connie put the others back and read until a few minutes after Rose closed her eyes. She tucked Rose in, kissed her gently on the forehead, went out into the kitchen and cried more happy tears.

As they were getting ready for bed, Paul took Connie's hands. "Maybe it's time we invited Rose to eat with us, maybe tomorrow night at dinner." They made gentle love that night, then got the best night's sleep they had since Rose arrived.

The next day, after Paul came home from work, Connie went into Rose's room and asked her if she'd like to eat dinner with them. Rose looked frightened and shook her head, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Finally, she walked around the bed, sat on the edge, and stared at the blank wall. Connie was devastated. It took Paul almost an hour to calm her.

"Why did you make me invite her to eat with us? It ruined everything! We rushed it, just like Sharon warned me about. Oh God, Paul, what have we done? We're never going to help her, we're going to be Rose's fourth failure."

After a flood of bitter tears, she hugged Paul. "I'm sorry I said that, Paul, you didn't make me do it. It wasn't your fault. Neither one of us knows what we're doing." The tears continued, though less devastating, but no matter how soothingly Paul spoke she cried herself to sleep.

The help they needed came from a source they should have anticipated, but didn't. Ethan had been curious about Rose since she first showed up, but when she didn't respond to his talking and jerked away from his touch, he had started avoiding her. The next morning, he heard Connie crying again, and listened as she repeated her fears to Paul at the breakfast table. She was so distraught during the day she didn't notice that Ethan wasn't underfoot, but would come into the kitchen once in a while for a cookie or glass of juice.

Connie's gloom faded a bit when Rose brought her tray into the kitchen and went back to her room. Paul put Ethan to bed, but Connie didn't try to read to Rose or tuck her in. They went into the living room with cups of tea and started reading, he in his recliner and she on the couch. She wasn't really reading, just staring at her book and trying not to think about failing Rose. A few minutes later, her world came into the light.

Carrying one of his books, Ethan led Rose by the hand into the living room, both in their jammies. He got up on the couch, then asked her to sit beside him. "I asked Rose to read my best book to me. She said she would because she likes me, and I told her I like her, too."

Both adults held their breath when he snuggled up to her so he could see the pictures, but Rose looked at him...and smiled. The parents—for suddenly they dared to feel like parents—tried not to gasp or cry as she began reading Goodnight Moon as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She had trouble with a few of the words, but Ethan helped; he had heard his best book at least a hundred times and pretty much memorized it. By the time she finished, Ethan's eyes were closed and he had sagged against her. She looked directly at Connie. "I think he's asleep." These were the first words Connie and Paul heard her speak. She closed the book, didn't shy away when Connie picked up Ethan, and silently trailed after as Connie carried Ethan toward their rooms.

Rose didn't suddenly turn into a normal little girl, of course. For the next year and a half it was usually one step forward and one step back, but once in a while it was two steps forward before the step back. Sharon continued the therapy sessions, but had started to encourage Connie during their therapy sessions both pretended were just chit-chat.

Much of the progress was due to Ethan. Rose would carry on long conversations with him, but still spoke only a few occasional word or two to the adults. Two or three times a week, Ethan and Rose would join Connie and Paul in the living room, Rose would read a book to him, then Connie would put them to bed.

One evening after several months of this, the two children came into the living room as usual, but Ethan gave the book to Paul. "Rose wants you to read to her." He may as well have said "Rose has been accepted to Harvard." He went back and sat next to Rose. Paul read the book, trying to act as if it were the sort of thing he did all the time.

Connie, still thunderstruck by this development, put them to bed as usual. Then she and Paul had a glass of wine and spent the next hour trying to understand what had just happened and wondering how to proceed. Ethan told them much later that it was his idea, he had to ask Rose four times before she agreed to let Paul read to her. She finally agreed when Ethan told her that Paul was unhappy because he was the only one who didn't get to read to her.

Sharon was astonished when Connie told her what had happened. She quizzed Connie for almost an hour and took copious notes. The following week she told Connie that, with her and Paul's permission, she wanted to write a paper on the remarkable therapeutic effect of Ethan's interventions.

As with the training program, none of the principals would be identified. Connie and Paul insisted that neither Ethan nor Rose be interviewed. Sharon agreed, and said she was going to wait a bit to see how things developed before submitting the paper. Yes, they could read it before she submitted it; they could suggest changes, but Sharon didn't have to follow them. After a lengthy discussion, Connie and Paul agreed, with the proviso that they could rescind permission anytime before it was submitted.

As months passed, Ethan became their unofficial advocate to Rose, especially for Paul. Gradually she grew more comfortable around him, thanks to Ethan's nonstop stories of how kind and smart Paul was. The culmination of his efforts came one evening over a year and a half after Rose joined the Hansen household.

Ethan and Rose walked into the living room, Rose carrying one of her books. As usual, Ethan got up on the couch and Rose walked up to Paul in his recliner. "Would you please read this to me, Paul?" When he agreed, she handed him the book, but instead of walking back to sit next to Ethan, she crawled up into Paul's lap. "Is this okay?"

Paul resisted a near-overwhelming urge to hug her, and managed to say "Sure" without squeaking. Connie covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes filled with tears. Ethan grinned. Paul started reading. When he finished and closed the book, Rose hugged him, said "Thank you," and kissed him on the cheek.

He look to Connie for guidance, but she shrugged and mouthed "I don't know."

Paul finally held his open arms out to Rose without touching her. She smiled and snuggled up against him in as tight a hug as she could squeeze. Paul hugged her back, very gently. "I love you, Rose." Despite his best efforts, his voice broke.

"I love you too, Paul. And I love Ethan, and I love Connie. Thank you." Connie, Paul, and Rose shed tears of joy. Ethan grinned.

Sharon started winding down the therapy sessions. She decided not to submit the journal article, because she didn't want to risk violating the Hansens' privacy. On the second anniversary of Rose coming home with Connie, they adopted Rose and the Hansen family was complete.