What she loved most about Jim was the way that he knew her.                

He was kind and careful and reassuring and all of these things that felt so much like home to her it made the breath catch in her throat.  The way that he was skilled at maneuvering her insecurities and her fears, and the way that her cheeks turned red sometimes when he looked at her, his gaze all hunger and honesty.                

They spent Christmas Eve in two different rooms, segregated along with the rest of the unmarried members of the family, and he said goodnight to her leaning in the doorway of Larissa’s old room with a quirk of his mouth that made her chuckle because she knew it bothered him much more than it bothered her to be sleeping so close, and yet so far.  The women sharing beds and blow-up mattresses chatted into the night, and the last thing Pam remembered before falling asleep was Anne admitting that she‘d always wished that she could draw, but sadly was, at best, only capable of a sad sort of stick figure.  Pam was inappropriately satisfied, and slept with a tiny little smile on her face, because she had some things that other people didn‘t, and that seemed really good.                

She awoke the next morning to the sound of excited feet skipping against hardwood, and stood to slip into the hall, watching with crossed arms and an amused expression as the younger of the Halpert children excitedly went about rousing all of their parents.  Jim appeared, groggy and adorable, trudging  somewhat unhappily out of his old bedroom behind Jon.                

“Good night,” he greeted huskily, blindly placing a kiss at her temple.  She chuckled.                

“Morning,” she corrected, “you seem rested…” she mumbled sarcastically.  He huffed.                

“I hate this part,” he admitted, his eyes sliding closed in exhausted defeat, “Why do kids think that 5 AM is fair game?”  She smiled indulgently and wrapped an arm around his middle, patting him fondly on the chest.                  

“Because, Jim,” she began to explain, her voice holding a tinge of reminiscence of the teachers she’d had in high school, “Santa was here.  Or did you not get the memo that it’s Christmas?”  she wondered, and he chuffed in her general direction leaning back against the wall and trapping her arm against him securely.                

“Wow, good thing you mentioned that, because I had no idea, Beesly.  I didn’t even get you anything,” he teased, and she was reminded of his mother and the way she’d teased him in much the same way the night before, and Pam thought for a second that maybe she did fit in…maybe she was a part of some sort of Halpert tradition…                  

“Don’t joke like that,” she warned, “It’s not funny.”  He nodded solemnly before letting a grin seep through his mock-serious demeanor.                

“Pam, come downstairs to see what Santa brought!” Jessie called out excitedly as she tripped by Pam and Jim on excited, sock-clad feet.  Pam smiled widely down at her speedily passing form.                

 “I’m right behind you!” she promised, and Jim groaned quietly into her ear, pulling laughter from her mouth that she shielded by hiding her face in his t-shirt.                

“Come back to bed with me,” he whispered into her hair, and she gently smacked his stomach.                

“Inappropriate,” she scolded.                

“What?!” he asked, reaching half-heartedly out to her as she stepped away and made her way toward the over-populated bathroom to brush her teeth with the rest of the girls.  He sighed behind her and she held her arms out in helplessness.                

“Sorry,” she offered, “It’s Christmas.”  He raised his eyebrows and gasped in mock-surprise and she laughed as she turned away from him and picked up her toothbrush with long, graceful fingers.   

***   ***                

The presents were practically attacked before everyone was even downstairs, and Pam found herself once again standing on the outskirts of the activity and observing, because it was not what she was used to and she was still learning this house and these people and these traditions.                  

In the Beesly family each member opened one present every hour, in an attempt to make the gift-giving last for the entire day.  Their unwrapping was careful and slow because they saved the paper and re-used it the next year.  They opened a present one at a time, examined it, thanked whoever had given it to them, and then indicated that the next person could go ahead.                  

The Halperts tore into their paper and ripped open box after box, filling the house with complete commotion for two hours straight, and forcing Pam to clutch at her cup of coffee and hope she didn’t get knocked over.  But there was a wide smile on her face as she watched, immensely entertained, and enjoying the way that the children jumped around in excitement and the adults called out to each other from room to room, commenting on gifts and offering up refreshments.  She supposed it was a flaw of hers, this observing instead of joining…watching instead of acting.  But she felt much more at ease standing in the doorway and grinning when she was directly addressed, but otherwise simply taking in everything that was happening around her.                

She shifted when she felt a gentle hand on her back, assuming that someone was trying to get by her and shove their way into the over-crowded den, but when she turned and backed up she was met with the warm smile of Mrs. Halpert, who held out a beautifully put-together tray of pastries, asking silently if Pam would like one.  She gingerly scooped up a raspberry danish and murmured a timid thank you.                

“You’re welcome, Pam,” Mrs. Halpert replied, nodding at her in encouragement and taking in the way that she sipped her coffee and chewed thoughtfully on her pastry with her eyes fixed on the den.  “Can I say something to you without it making things awkward?” she wondered quietly, and Pam turned her head back sharply, feeling the distinct nervousness of the night before reappear inside of her.  She swallowed her bite of danish and nodded.                

“Of course,” she responded, and Mrs. Halpert nodded back, turning and sweeping her own gaze over the activity in the den.                

“Jim has always been a happy kind of person,” she began, and Pam wondered where exactly this little talk was going and whether she should politely try to excuse herself, “But he’s also always had…his father hates it when I say this,” Mrs. Halpert interrupted herself dryly, and Pam pressed her lips together in an indulgent kind of smile, not sure that a full smile would have been completely honest with the amount of wariness inside of her, “But he’s always had some kind of…I don’t know…unrest, maybe.  He’s always been unsettled.  Do you know what I mean?” she wondered, and Pam felt her anxiousness abate for a moment because she knew exactly what Mrs. Halpert meant.  She’d seen it in Jim from the moment she met him, that he felt things deeply, and he had a kind of poetic sense about him that cast a little bit of a shadow over the way that he viewed the world.  He felt like he wasn’t sure what he wanted to be, or who he was deep down, and he’d admitted that to Pam often…and she thought of him sitting on his sofa with his head in his hands, telling her he felt stuck, telling her he needed to do something more…be something more.                 

She nodded at Mrs. Halpert slowly and took a sip of coffee.                

“Yes,” she assured her, after she’d swallowed, “I do, actually.”  Mrs. Halpert smiled softly and inhaled, watching Pam for what felt like an eternity and Pam felt her brow furrow, questioning what was going on in Mrs. Halpert’s head.  Finally, Mrs. Halpert spoke and Pam got her answer.                  

 “You settle him,” she stated, and Pam felt the air leave her lungs in a gush.  “You do something to take away his unrest and his worry, and until yesterday I didn’t really understand what it was about you that made him so at ease.  But now I…” she squinted slightly and tilted her head,  “You’re very kind, Pam.  You seem very kind and calm and quiet and I can see exactly why he loves you as much as he does.”  Pam’s eyes filled with tears and she found herself without enough voice to respond, her mouth dropping open in surprise.  Mrs. Halpert chuckled.  “See, I knew it would be awkward.”                

“No,” Pam finally forced out.  “No it’s not.  It isn’t,” she promised adamantly, not wanting anything to ever take away what Jim’s mother had just given to her.  She blinked and set her danish back down on the tray for a moment so that she could wrap her arm around Mrs. Halpert’s shoulders and pull her into a brief hug.  She pulled back and shook her head at herself, picking the danish back up and grinning ruefully at her own emotion.  “Thank you,” she told her meaningfully, and Jim’s mom winked.                

“I just call it like I see it,” she told her.  “We really are honored that you would spend Christmas with us,” she stated quietly and Pam nodded, unable to really reply as she watched Mrs. Halpert walk away and push herself into the den, elbow first, exclaiming that if anybody wanted to eat pastries they should act fast.  Pam stood there and considered the fact that maybe her quietness wasn’t a flaw at all and maybe it was just the thing this oversized Halpert family happened to need to balance out all of the activity… Maybe someone like Anne blended into the scenery perfectly and knew answers to board games and baked gingerbread cookies, but maybe the Halperts really only needed someone to be still…be quiet…stretch out with a coloring book and bake cookies with Hershey kisses in the middle.  Maybe they really did need Pam.  She hoped they did, anyway.                

Jim appeared from the crowd and grinned at her, his hair still ruffled and his flannel pajama pants and forest green shirt making him look like a much younger and more innocent version of himself.  She raised her coffee cup in a little cheers and he chuckled at her, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her through the kitchen until they were standing at the hall closet.  He reached in, pulled out his winter coat. and handed it to her, tugging on her hand again and leading her out the front door and onto the porch.  The air was crisp and chilled and Pam pulled his coat on gratefully, glad that she’d thought to pull on thick winter socks before she came downstairs.                  

“Fresh air,” Jim explained simply, crossing his arms and leaning against the railing of the porch to assess her, his eyes sweeping over her face and then her over-sized coat-clad body, and he smiled warmly, his own coffee cup hanging empty from his fingers.  The porch, the morning and the way it was still gray with the hour, seemed so much more quiet than the inside of the house and Pam took a deep breath through her nose, loving the way that everything felt like Christmas…smelled like Christmas…just seemed like Christmas in that way that was impossible to explain.  Jim reached out to her and took the coffee from her hands, the soft smile on his face staying in place and his eyes squinting at her a little bit, like trying to say something without really saying it.  Pam smiled widely and was about to announce that she loved this…that she loved him…when he interrupted her.                

“There are gloves in my coat pocket if your hands are cold,” he told her and she raised her eyebrows at him, taking a second to realize he wasn’t announcing anything romantic or declaring anything important, just suggesting that maybe she’d like to wear his gloves.  She flexed her fingers to feel how cold they really were and decided that gloves were actually not a bad idea, so she reached a hand into the right pocket and came up empty.  Reaching into the left pocket she frowned when the only thing she discovered was an envelope…no gloves.  She eyed him suspiciously and pulled the envelope out, looking down warily and finding herself unable to stifle the barking laughter that erupted from her lungs once she finally focused and realized what she was holding.  But then as the surprise settled and she realized what exactly he had done she gasped, covering her mouth with an ungloved hand.                

“You…” she blinked up at him, “You bought us tickets to Sandals, Jamaica?” she asked, disbelieving, unsure whether she should laugh again or tell him she wasn’t sure she could stomach vacationing at Michael Scott’s favorite getaway.  Jim chuckled and jutted his chin out gently toward the envelope in her hands.                

“Check the actual tickets, Pam…” he told her quietly.  She opened the envelope and stared down at the airplane tickets in her hand, tears filling her eyes and her hand starting to shake like her head was starting to shake.  She inhaled a noisy breath and held it, the tears starting to track down her cheeks in little drips.                

“Paris,” she breathed, her voice thick with tears and her hand still hanging against her mouth like it could catch her emotion and keep it inside.  He licked his lips and studied her.                

“Yeah,” he whispered.  “The Sandals thing was just a joke,” he admitted, his tone sheepish but still hushed like he didn’t want to break the glass-like look from her face and the way that she was staring down at the paper in her hand like it was made of gold.                

“Why did you do this for me?” she asked, with her fingers pressed gingerly against her lips, and he shrugged, smiling because he couldn’t help himself.                 “Because I’m in love with you,” he told her honestly, and she started crying in earnest, stepping forward to throw her arms around his neck and press her lips against the skin there, murmuring that she loved him too, over and over again like it was a mantra or a prayer.                  

Wrapped in his arms with two tickets to Paris clutched tightly in her fingers she wondered how she could’ve ever thought, the night before, that Christmas had gone wrong.  She wondered how she could’ve confused this happiness with melancholy…how she could’ve mixed up perfection with imperfection so soundly and easily.  She tightened her arms around him, laughed into his shoulder, and reveled in this…here…this warmth and this feeling of being grounded and sure…this comfort and this being a true part of something…being half of a whole, being the Pam in ‘Jim and Pam’…                

She thought that what she loved about Scranton was the winter...                

And what she loved about Dickson City was this.  Here.  This man, and this house, and the way that they wrapped themselves around her like a blanket during a cold night…like the warmth of a kitchen or the smell of freshly baked cookies…they were clean and they were white and they felt as familiar and beautiful as the season’s first snow.                                 

And she felt at home.   

…Oh, tidings of comfort and joy.