She fiddled with her wavy, auburn, and gray streaked hair, bringing the mail from the door and sat it on the tray between the plate full of eggs and buttered toast and the fresh squeezed orange juice. She picked it up, turned on the balls of her feet and balanced with her elbows as she took the stairs to her mother's room. The woman stopped in the doorway, admiring the newly woken early June sun that beat down on the older woman as she sat on the terrace surrounded by flowers and, as always, drawing. She'd never stopped, though as she got older she finally found a use for her grandmother's advice, right or wrong,

"Keep busy, fights the dementia, fights the arthritis, if you're always moving the devil can't get ya'."

After sitting the tray on the bedside table she knocked softly on the glass door, just enough so her mother smiled at her return and gently sat her pencil and unfinished portrait onto the empty table; steadying herself on the back of the chair, she slowly made her way to the bed.

The daughter fixed the curtains and went to close the doors when her mother protested, "Just shut the screen, it's such a nice day out." She stopped for a second, "Your dad would've loved it."

"Is that what you were drawing?"

"We have a million pictures, I know, it just helps.” Replied the woman, now sitting in bed, while adjusting her glasses and picking up the small stack of letters.

She went through most of them quickly, tossing her once loved junk mail aside, everyday until 6 months ago they would sit in bed and read the papers and having a laugh at the exaggerations in garbage mail and the 'you may be a winner's. But now she just threw them away, she found no happiness in reading junk mail alone.

"Oh my god," She forced open the last letter with her butter knife and dug inside, finding a neat hand written note that smelled of lilacs and three pictures.

Pam,
Welcome Janice Noelle Schrute into your hearts and your prayers. Not a week old and she's already dressing her in...green.
Angela

"What is it?" Her daughter came and sat beside her and smiled at the wrinkled, balled up fist in the mouth of Janice in her pink dress and cap.

"The newest Schrute grandbaby and the 5th full family photo this year."

"How many does that make now, 12?"

"16," Pam corrected her, "The beady eyes and disapproving glare run in the family."

Pam sat in her own thoughts for a minute; somehow her and Angela had become friends but in a small sense of the word, she'd get a letter when a baby was born or someone died, she even joked once, drawing her own version of the family portrait with all 8 kids, then 5 grandchildren, and Mose at the end. Angela sent a note back saying that she had never in her life looked that sternly at someone.

"She's gotten softer though," She added out of nowhere, taking a sip of her juice," It surprises me sometimes, I'll joke on the phone and she'll actually chuckle. Dwight won't get to see this one, though."

Dwight died 10 years earlier of pneumonia. He refused to miss work and died at his desk, scarring for life the new salesman he had just started training. After that, Angela would only show her not so stern face to Pam, when they saw each other anyway. Philadelphia was a long way from Scranton and the Schrute farm.

She saw herself now, sitting on that dream terrace with her shoulder length curls moving in the warm night breeze, staring at the far off highway and city lights, her sketch pad resting on her swollen belly with pencil in hand fiercely working over the page. There he stood, blocking her view from the bed, as tall as ever, as young as ever, as tired as ever. He leaned against the frame with any worry he'd ever had melting to a puddle below his feet as he watched his wife fill a sleepless night with meaning. His job, his dream job, the one Pam gave him the courage to pursue, took him away from home every so often and by the time he arrived home they were both restless and weary.

He stepped closer and moved his arms to hug her shoulders and overlap his forearms on her chest. His breath on her ear soothed every muscle in her body and her own hands clasped around the arms she had yearned for all of the previous week.

"How was New York?"

"Lonely," He stated softly into the night.

The two stayed that way for a minute, silent, letting the time apart fade away and the body heat comfort.

"Flowers are coming in nice."

"Jim," Pam let out a gust of air with his name and smiled, "You can't see them; they haven't even been in the dirt a whole week."

She knew by the weight on the top of her head he was shrugging," Fine, I can see into the future. I didn't want to tell you in fear of government interference with my real job, predicting the outcome of major sporting events and selling the numbers to the Russian mafia."

"So, did you see this?"

"I did, that first day, when I told you your yogurt was expired, I was actually reading it to see if you would be letting me get some any time in the near future."

Pam moved her hands and pushed out her stomach, "Holy shit, you did!"

Jim laid his hands on her stomach, beaming from ear to ear. The sheer happiness that filled his body when he found out could have spawned a Forrest Gump, cross country type of run, all along screaming, “She’s Pregnant!”

“Are you still feeling sick?”

“Not so much anymore, it’s more of the constant peeing and heartburn that’s killing me. It’s going to be such a chore for you when I’m twice this big and it's doing cartwheels in there. Maybe there is an upside to this whole pregnancy thing…Ya’ know minus the cooing, smiling, laughing, big nosed, face making, adorable, oh Jim I want it now!” Pam took a deep breath in and let it out slowly,” Ohhh Pam, you are so not ready.”

“Oh, baby, she is so not ready, don’t ever come out.” Jim mocked.

It was quite in the suburban neighborhood as the young couple laced their fingers on her growing stomach and for a second they were one

“You are going to be an amazing mom. You’re not the person you were 7 years ago, she’s dead, back in Scranton saying ‘Dunder Mifflin this is Pam.’ forever.”

“Jim, I…I’m just scared. I didn’t know it was possible to be head over heals, scared shitless, and insanely happy at the same time.”

He kissed the top of her head lightly before saying, "I'm in love with you."

Almost on instinct the sitting woman turned her torso and looked at him, "What?"

"I sai-Oh Halpert, oh, oh that is low."

Their lips caught before he had time to let out an embarrassed laugh. She caught his mouth the way she always did, swift and small, her tongue always tasting of sweet nectar, pulling him in so the rest of the world fell into oblivion and his last hope on earth was that this woman be there until he was unable to love with every part of his soul, until forever.

Pam opened her eyes to find the food still warm on her plate, the baby photo that Angela had sent still on her lap, she knew now that she'd again been dreaming of days 50 years passed, dead and gone that somehow sent a shiver from inside her bones to the skin on her toes.

"Tera called me yesterday, said the kids are great but that Tom is on business again. One of James' books is in talks for a TV show and...Mom?"

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, hon, I..."

The auburn haired woman walked over to her mother from the window and took the handles of the tray with the picked at food, "Maybe you should get some rest, momma, we can talk later."

Pam set her hands down firm on her daughter's and let a pathetic smile break through, "Morgan, I'm fine, an old lady day dreams a little and you automatically think she's having a stroke. I'm fine, I promise."

The woman titled her head and pulled her lips towards her teeth before setting the food back down on the bed.

"And stop giving me your father's looks! From the time you all were babies; I think maybe it's ingrained into the DNA." Said Pam, half jokingly, though she had always enjoyed being the only one at the dinner table not throwing a quirky look in some direction.

"So which book is James getting a deal for?"

"I don't know, he was ecstatic on the phone though, so it's either really popular or really special." Morgan rushed then sighed and sat down.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Pam swallowed her eggs, nodding at her daughter, "I told you, my mind just does what it wants from time to time," She stiffened her neck and lifted her hand daintily, "It's the way of an artist."

As Morgan talked on about her daughter and her own grandkids Pam found herself in and out. She knew days like these, soon they would all be days like these, but it wasn't her memory going, it was her heart. You can't cure sadness of death. He'd been sweet in his death, slow and ready and loving, there wasn't a day that went by she wasn't by his side talking, about anything and nothing. When he finally kissed her and slowly ran out of breath she felt him leave, only his face filled with wrinkles from a life time of emotion and love there to keep her company at last. She'd told Jim in a whisper that she loved him, that she would live out her days happy and love-weary free...but Pam was stubborn.

The more she tried the more he floated back to her in memories, in every room of the house, in the bed they had slept in, made love in, made their children in, even the bed their oldest daughter was born in, a night she remembered frequently as she drifted off to sleep with the smell of him still deeply rooted in the empty pillow beside her.

Pam sat on the bed, curling her toes when each contraction hit, and tried to make the best of her Lamaze breathing that didn't help very much to begin with. Jim paced back and forth through the room before heading into the hall way, only to come dashing back when Pam let out a breathy moan. He held her hand tightly but all she could do was smile at him through her pain. He was more anxious than she was.

"Jim, she won't be here for hours. Just relax; I thought Philly Jim was supposed to be laid back?"

"When I'm at work or here with you, but when you're giving birth to our child, completely different situation." Jim replied, rubbing the balls of his hands into his tired eyes.

"Just go to sleep, if anything happens I'll just smack you."

Jim only bit his lip and stared off into space. Elizabeth was coming and just the thought of it made fear rise in his belly. How could she be so calm? She was going to be a mother, so he guessed she just came wired with mom skills that kicked in the date of conception, but he was going to be a father, and didn't have the slightest idea what he was doing. They'd taken all the classes, read all the books, talked to their own parents and friends who were parents, done everything they were supposed to do. Now Jim just wanted a few of those months back to make sure they were absolutely ready.

Sleep, Jim repeated to himself, How can I sleep, she'll have the baby right when I...

She gritted her way through the contractions, trying not to wake her drooling husband. She knew they would be fine, it was nice for once, being the level headed one. Since they'd moved to Philadelphia calm, any kind of calm, had been a thing of the past. Jim had gotten that sports writing job he always wanted, Pam had her graphic design job and they spend long nights away from home. When she saw the little black 'yes' pop up on the home test she though maybe when she caught her reflection in the mirror it would be upset, confused. Instead she found a bigger smile than she’d had in her entire life. She wanted to plan and be cute about telling Jim but she flew down the stairs and into his arms, pulling tighter around his neck so he could see the stick peeking over her shoulder.

"Jim...Jim it's time!"

He yawned groggily, barely seeing outline of his wife.

"Jim!" Pam smacked his cheek, "the baby is coming."

Jim jumped out of bed and ran to her side, "Now, like right now? Oh my god...okay come on let’s go. Can you walk? Maybe I should carry you, but you can probably walk. Okay, okay, come on I’ll help you.”

“I…”

“Come on, baby, everything is in the car, the doctor is expecting us, it’ll be fine.”

“No, the baby is coming now,” She screamed the word now as another contraction hit, “There’s no time!”

‘Pam, oh god,” Jim called 911 and situated himself at Pam’s feet.

“My, my wife’s in labor and there’s no time to get to the hospital, she told me to sleep and so I did and then the baby’s just coming and I don’t know what to do…I don’t know wha-“

The operator cut him off, got the address and told him to stay on the line.

“She said to push if you need to push, okay?”

Pam nodded and dug her nails into the sheets for relief when she brought her chin to her chest and pushed for dear life. She would stop and take a few breaths before pushing again, Jim giving soft words of encouragement before lowering his head. This repeated itself about a dozen times before she laid her head back into the pillow, breathing heavy.

“I can’t…”

“Pam, she’s right here, I can see her. Baby, one more push, you have to.” Jim’s voice shook at the sight of his child’s head.

With everything left in her, Pam gave one last forceful push and heard a baby’s cry. Her head found the pillow again and she smiled watching Jim wipe off and wrap their daughter in a blanket.

“It’s a girl, Pammy.” He whispered as he handed the bundle to his wife.

He sat beside her, kissing her sweaty forehead, and they watched Elizabeth Jane open her eyes for the first time. The doorbell rang and Jim got up, hung up the phone, and went to let the medics in. He led them to the bedroom and when Pam came into view something was different, her eyes were drooping and her breathing was shaky, all of the color had gone from her face. In a second the paramedics rushed to her, one scooped up the baby, cut and tied off the umbilical cord and handed her to Jim who still stood in the doorway in a trance.

Elizabeth wriggled in his arms as he moved closer to the bed. He saw her face, pale, lifeless, a world different from just a moment before and he started to cry. Chocking through mostly inaudible words all he could manage was “Pam.”

It sounded over and over again, following them down the stairs and into the ambulance and through the quiet streets, the doctors throwing open the doors, some rushing around the gurney and the rest grabbing the baby from his arms. The crowd grew smaller running down the hall until they disappeared all together, leaving Jim alone, cradling an absent baby in his arms, his hands dirty and his shirt stained.

“Pam…”

It was only just after midnight and the house was quiet. No children, no TVs, no dishwashers or late night games of hide and seek.

“It’s not normal.” She thought, rolling over, ignoring the pain in her back.

Not a decade before you couldn’t walk into a room without hearing a giggle or a familiar story being told. Even the years when the kids had graduated before they all had families of their own the house was never lonely.

That was gone now. He’d tried to keep everyone happy, even from his hospital room, but when they were out of sight all anyone could do was cry. As if the earliest part of their relationship hadn’t been test enough.

Time passed slowly and Pam found a comfortable position, laying her hand on the cold space to her left, the space closer to the door. Sometimes when she woke up in the middle of the night she’s forget he wasn’t there, and sometimes she just needed to know that he was there somehow. She lay there alone, smiling to herself at one point thinking about the times where two adults and three kids were stuffed into that bed, all smashed together and fighting for a space.

Elizabeth was first, and although they’d been prepared the scare of almost losing Pam made a lasting impression. Growing up she loved to hear the story of how her daddy delivered her and kept her safe. She was four when Morgan shot into this world like a bat out of hell. The middle child and the most mix of the two was their dare devil and inherited her father’s devilish ways before she could talk. James, named rightfully so, seeing as he was Jim’s twin in most every way, was quiet and intelligent, both mommy’s boy and dad’s sports dream. He was the one most interested in his parent’s love story, he called it a one in a billion thing and from the time he could write he was writing their story.

One Christmas early on in their marriage Pam bought Jim a camera. He named it Bob and from then on Bob was a part of the family. The kids’ entire life had been captured and developed in his dark room in the basement beside Pam’s painting room. Subsequently most every wall had at least 5 pictures on it of the kids at various stages. He’d spent so much of his life at a computer he found solace in something he could touch and feel, something he put actual work into.

Pam slipped off to sleep again, dreaming of repetitive events and silent films of her life.

“Now your mommy is one tough lady. She was brave and calm, me, I was scared shi-poopless! Pretty soon you’re going to meet some characters, but just remember the big one with glasses will not be holding you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop Michael, though. But all these people knew that your mommy and daddy loved each other, probably before we knew. Long story short, it all adds up to you. God, you look just like her, too. You got lucky kid, so lucky. Oh look Lizzy, she’s waking up. Say hi mommy, hi…”