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Author's Chapter Notes:

Jim, Pam, baby, grandma (who bears a striking resemblance to my own beloved one.) NO SPOILERS. Oh, and Jim sings too.

Both songs referenced here are unabashedly un-hip. As is the play mentioned, Carousel; while its love story is very different than Pam and Jim's, it does share certain themes. Many thanks to xoxox for encouraging my hopelessly romantic instincts and to Par5 for embracing how tragically uncool I can be.

Disclaimer: Own not a thing related to the characters or the show. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

State of Grace  

Julie:

But somehow I can see
Just exactly how I'd be-

If I loved you,
Time and again I would try to say
All I'd want you to know.
If I loved you,
Words wouldn't come in an easy way
Round in circles I'd go!
Longin' to tell you,
But afraid and shy,
I'd let my golden chances pass me by!
Soon you'd leave me,
Off you would go in the mist of day,
Never, never to know how I loved you
If I loved you.
 

- If I Loved You (from Carousel, by Rodgers & Hammerstein)  

 

When Pam first heard that song, many years earlier, true love was a state of grace, found in plays and fairy tales and her grandmother, Lillian’s stories. Anything was possible.

 

****************************

Lillian 

On Pam’s twelfth birthday, her grandmother took her to see her first real play, a revival of Carousel. They’d sat together in their balcony seats, transfixed. They’d wept when Billy, who the heroine Julie loved against all odds, died. Gone. Never to know. Later in the play, when his ghost appeared, her grandmother had squeezed Pam’s magic marker-stained hand in her own perfectly manicured one. Lillian sighed, and Pam understood something she’d never really considered before: love could be elusive.  It could be misinterpreted. It could be lost. They left the theatre with puffy red eyes and soggy tissues wadded in their fists.  Even the elaborate ice cream concoction her grandmother treated her to afterwards couldn’t distract Pam from Julie and Billy’s story. It didn’t matter that it was dated, even a little hokey; it was a beautiful and true thing.

 

If I Loved You. The song threaded throughout the play and into Pam’s head and had echoed there ever since. It would forever conjure images of Grandma Lillian. Pam had adored her.  No one loved love like Lillian did. She was a true believer. She wore thick pink lipstick and never missed her weekly beauty parlor appointment. She put on stockings and heels each morning, regardless of where she was going. Even at the supermarket or her weekly bridge game, she was the heroine of her own romance novel.

 

Lillian’s claim to fame was that she was a wonderful pianist. She could play, by heart, virtually every song written before1965. Her repertoire of love songs, especially, was enormous. She’d never had a formal lesson; her family hadn’t even been able to afford a piano until she was a teenager. Technique was beside the point; she simply had an ear and the musical soul of a true romantic. As a child, there was nothing Pam liked more than spending the afternoon drawing pictures at her grandmother’s big old dining room table, listening to her play. If I Loved You. Pam loved Lillian’s rendition even better than the original Broadway cast recording she’d received on cassette tape for Christmas one year.

 

By the time she was born, Pam’s grandfather was a memory. She knew him only through family photographs and legend: he’d loved her grandmother utterly, profoundly, without condition and she’d been equally smitten with him from the day they met. Pam remembered once asking, when she was very young, why her grandmother had loved him so.

 

‘He knew who I was, Pam.’ Lillian had simply replied.

 

 

************************************* 

Her grandmother died when Pam was in high school, shortly before she met Roy. She hadn’t thought about her when she’d accepted his first marriage proposal. She did think about her quite a bit later, however, when she realized she couldn’t marry him. When just one kiss had stopped her dead in her tracks and left her stranded in a foggy place with neither a path nor a compass.  Off you would go in the mist of day… 

Pam thought of Lillian again when Jim, like a ghost, suddenly returned. When just one look at him confirmed all she’d squandered. When she’d gone round in circles for so long she was dizzy and leaving him never, never to know was no longer any more bearable than rejection, or worse, indifference. Obstacles and circumstance couldn’t hide the plain fact of it: she was Lillian’s granddaughter. And she belonged to Jim.

 

Words wouldn’t come in an easy way. But finally, trippingly, not by magic but by sheer force of will, they did come. And he was hers too.

  

**************************************

 

Pam, Jim, Lily 

Jim would never admit it, but he actually sang quite well. When Pam was within earshot, he mostly sang to amuse her. Annoying top forty hits, sung in a gratingly high-pitched voice to get her attention when she was ignoring him. Overwrought pop ballads, crooned like a lounge lizard in a seedy hotel bar off the interstate, to cheer her up when she was low. But once in a while, she’d catch him singing quietly along to the radio when they were driving, or when he was alone in the shower.

 

If she mentioned it, he’d get self-conscious and clam up, or switch into goofy singing mode. Sometimes in the car, she actually pretended to be sleeping so he wouldn’t stop. She’d once asked him why he didn’t sing when they were in the shower together.

 

‘Because, Pam, I have more pressing things to focus on when you’re in there,’ he replied.

 

‘Oh, yeah?’

 

‘Yup,’ he continued. ‘Getting you all soaped up takes a lot of concentration... you have a surprising number of nooks and crannies, you know. Come to think of it, I think I better get you in a shower right now.’

 

She’d laughed, but as much as she loved the sensation of his fingers slipping through her shampoo-lathered hair, everywhere, and his wet skin sliding against hers…sometimes waking up in the morning and hearing the shower already running was best of all. She’d sink down into the blankets, still warm where he’d just been lying and inhale his scent. She’d listen to the sound of his voice.

 

  ********************************************* 

Pam told Jim about seeing Carousel as a child, and played him her old cassette. He ribbed her a little about how sappy it was, but when the band at their wedding played If I Loved You, she knew who’d requested it. Holding her close as they swayed together on the dance floor, he ran his hand up her back to the base of her neck and rolled Lillian’s pearls between his fingers. It was the same spot he’d kissed just a few hours earlier, before do you take and yes and finally. If her mascara ran a little onto his shirt collar, neither one of them cared.

 

 *********************************************

 

When Pam was good and pregnant and tired and cranky, Jim figured out that certain questions, from the dreaded do I look fat, to the seemingly innocuous what do you want for dinner, had no acceptable answers. He realized that foot rubs alone were no longer going to cut it; staying on her good side meant bringing out the big guns.  So, he hunted down a CD of Carousel on an obscure website and bought it for her a to listen to in the car. The good news was that it worked like a charm; her mood during their daily ride to work improved immeasurably. The bad news was that she played it to the point of nearly driving him insane.

 

‘If I’d known show tunes were going to be involved,’ he teased her,  ‘I might have thought twice about marrying you.’

 

Just to balance things out, a couple of weeks later he also bought her The Beatle’s White Album; one of his earliest memories was his mother singing him one of its songs, I Will, when she put him to bed at night. He hadn’t thought about it in years, but it seemed fitting that he’d remember it now.

 

‘Two can play this game, Pam,’ he attempted to deflect her attention, suddenly finding himself blushing as she unwrapped it. ‘Anyway, the key to a successful marriage is equal opportunity nostalgia.’

 

‘Someone been TiVO-ing Dr. Phil again?’ she asked, kissing him. Wishing she’d known him when he was a little boy.

 

The song instantly became one of Pam’s favorites as well and she put it into heavy rotation with If I Loved You. Jim complained about the endless repetition, but it was obvious he didn’t really mind.

 

 ********************************************** 

Jim became convinced that a walk in the night air was the key to getting Lily to sleep. And it seemed to work. Sometimes. So they strapped her to his chest in the baby carrier and took her for an evening stroll. Pam still wasn’t accustomed to the sight of it: Lily’s perfect face just beneath Jim’s equally beautiful, but somewhat exhausted and stubbly one; her hair, the same color and luxurious mess as his; the shape of his mouth an exact magnification of her tiny one.

 

As they wandered the neighborhood around their apartment, Pam told Jim the story of how Lillian taught herself to play just by listening to songs on the radio, then sneaking into the local school after hours to use the piano, until the janitors shooed her away. He was duly impressed. Which pleased Pam no end.

 

‘So, what you’re saying is that Lily’s destined to be a musical genius,’ he smiled down at Pam, lacing his fingers through hers as they walked. 

‘Not necessarily.’ Pam replied. ‘God knows I’m not.’

 

‘You are a brilliant artist though,’ he said with total conviction.

 

‘And you are so delusional,’ she laughed.

 

‘What did I say about contradicting me?’ he reprimanded, looking as stern as he could manage. ‘Am I going to have to spank you?’

 

‘Ooh…is that a threat or a promise?’ 

 

‘Wow, Beesly. Who knew motherhood would bring out a whole new kinky side of you?’ he leered at her. ‘Hold that thought until we get home, would’ya?’

 

‘Mmmm, not so fast, buster…remember what the doctor said about waiting six weeks.’

 

‘Trust me, I’m painfully aware…in fact, I’ve calculated the remaining time down to the nano-second.’

 

‘Why does that not surprise me?’

 

‘Anyway,’ he laughed, ‘the musical gene skips a generation. We’re looking at years of expensive music lessons here.’ 

 

‘Jim, she can’t even roll over yet.’

 

‘Ignore her, Lily,’ Jim whispered conspiratorially, kissing the top of his daughter’s head. ‘I know genius when I see it.’

 

 ************************************************* 

When Pam opened her eyes, she was alone. Momentarily disoriented, she glanced over at the clock on Jim’s side of the bed. 4:23 a.m. She’d put Lily down at ten o’clock the night before and turned in immediately, making this the most hours of undisturbed sleep she’d had in the four months since Lily was born.

 

The apartment was completely silent, except for the slight creaking of the rocking chair across the hall. Dropping her head back onto her pillow, she closed her eyes and easily imagined the two of them: Jim, half asleep, wearing only his boxer shorts, with Lily’s progressively drowsy face cushioned snugly against his chest, her impossibly small fist resting on his shoulder. And if she listened very carefully, Pam could also hear him softly singing. Sounding slightly gravelly with sleep, but without the slightest hint of irony.

 

Who knows how long I've loved you
You know I love you still
Will I wait a lonely lifetime
If you want me to--I will...*

 

She pictured Jim as a child. She thought he must have been well loved.


After a few minutes the singing faded away and she could hear one final squeak of the rocking chair, followed by the sound of Jim’s ‘ssshhhh.’ He padded back into their room and climbed into bed beside her, as she turned to face him.

‘Hey,’ he whispered, gently gathering her to him.

 

‘Lily?’ Pam asked groggily, snaking her arms around him and sliding her leg between his so they were totally intertwined.

 

‘Sleeping. Perfect.’ 

 

‘Mmm…you sounded good,’ she murmured.

 

Jim didn’t answer; he just pulled her closer against him and found her lips with his.

 

‘You feel good too…’she sighed into his mouth.

 

It didn’t take much, not another word, sung or spoken, before they were thinking the same thing, or not thinking, just melting and moving together. So quiet and simple and complete that Pam knew it was as close to grace as she’d ever come.

 

Eventually, as they drifted back off to sleep, Pam thought of Lillian again. She would have loved Jim. He knew exactly who her granddaughter was.

 

  **********************************

 

*One of the simplest, but best love songs:

I Will (Lennon/McCartney)

Who knows how long I've loved you
You know I love you still
Will I wait a lonely lifetime
If you want me to--I will.

For if I ever saw you
I didn't catch your name
But it never really mattered
I will always feel the same.

Love you forever and forever
Love you with all my heart
Love you whenever we're together
Love you when we're apart.

And when at last I find you
Your song will fill the air
Sing it loud so I can hear you
Make it easy to be near you
For the things you do endear you to me
You know I will
I will.
  

 



Colette is the author of 37 other stories.
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