enlarge Gordon Chibroski/Staff Photographer

Mimi Ferris helps Greg Gulino mount his quarterhorse, Duke. She has worked with him since he was in the eighth grade, and they have developed a close bond. The relationship is not a one-way street; Ferris says she gets a lot of satisfaction out of their friendship.

enlarge Gordon Chibroski/Staff Photographer

Greg Gulino and Mimi Ferris work together during a lesson at Riding to the Top Therapeutic Riding Center at Pineland Farms in New Gloucester. “I get a lot of satisfaction out of seeing Greg’s progression,” she said.

I BELIEVE

EDITOR'S NOTE: For some people, passion and commitment to an ideal is more than something for the holiday season. For them, faith in that ideal is a touchstone for their lives. Second of five parts.

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They spend a lot of time together during the day, but these few quiet moments on the stairs are special. They talk about all sorts of things.

Greg has lots to say, and next to his parents, it is Ferris who hears him most clearly.

It is Ferris who has helped give him a voice.

Greg, an 18-year-old with curly brown hair and square tortoise- shell glasses, is a senior at Cape Elizabeth High School. He has a rare syndrome that years ago caused him to have several strokes, and that left him with multiple physical and developmental disabilities. He uses a walker. He communicates with the world through a combination of sign language, a laptop computer, some verbal cues, and "GregSpeak," an intuitive expressiveness that only his family and close caregivers can interpret.

Ferris, 28, is Greg's caregiver and friend. She has worked with him since he was in the eighth grade, and they have developed an extraordinarily close bond.

Greg's parents say it is Ferris' belief in their son and his ability to move forward that has allowed him to blossom into the young man he has become -- a sometimes funny, sometimes shy teenager with a sweet tooth who knows how to love and laugh, and yearns to be engaged with the world.

"I get a lot of satisfaction out of seeing Greg's progression, and I get a lot of satisfaction out of our relationship together," Ferris said.

Greg's parents place tremendous faith in Ferris and her resolve to do only what's best for their son. Len and Barbara Gulino say they trust Ferris' judgment so much that she has, at times, been able to stand in for them.

Ferris has been given more authority than any other caregiver they have ever employed, and in this family that really means something. Their older son has autism, and the Gulinos estimate that over the years they have worked with 45 different caregivers.

"So much of relationship is communication, and the communication between all four of us has been so extraordinarily clear," Len Gulino said. "She has a great ability to communicate and deal with very, very emotionally stressful things in a very mature way."

On a recent winter afternoon, the family gathers in the kitchen, chatting while Greg digs into a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast his mother just made for him. Greg and Ferris are holding hands, a soothing gesture that helps quell the rumble of his hunger.

"You're OK," she says softly to him. "Here, have a bite of your eggs. Your belly will feel better."

Ferris has a degree in human development, but she got her start as a caregiver working with her cousin, who has Landau-Kleffner syndrome, a neurological disorder similar to autism.

"Originally I wanted to do it because it was my cousin, and we just had a good relationship," Ferris said. "And I liked trying to teach him new things and challenging him, and challenging myself."

When she moved to Maine and was hired by the Gulinos, it was a baptism by fire. A month after Ferris began her new job, Greg had to go to Children's Hospital in Boston for major surgery and rehabilitation. A four-to-six-week stay stretched into more than three months. The Gulinos relied on Ferris to keep them informed about what his many medical providers were saying and doing when they couldn't be there.

"She was able to give us the true scoop," Len Gulino said.

Part of Greg's rehabilitation involved spending up to 45 minutes at a time in a contraption that stretched his legs. His father calls it "a rack."

In the kitchen, Ferris and Greg share memories of that time. Ferris sang and danced for him, and wheeled the cat around in the walker, all in the name of distracting Greg from the pain.

"What else did we do?" Ferris asks.

Greg makes a noise that sounds something like singing.

"Yeah,...