II.

“Any luck?” Jim leaned down onto Pam’s desk, desperation etched into his face.

“Nothing yet. I’ve left messages on his cell and at his house, with every customer in his Rolodex, at Poor Richard’s, at Hooters, and at Chili’s. I called his mom. I even called the magic supply store. No one’s seen him. I hope he’s OK.” Pam shook her head a little as if to ward off her concern.

“Yeah, well, I’m more worried about us right now,” Jim sighed. He ran his hand through his hair tiredly. “She still refuses to let me take her to the hospital. The contractions are four minutes apart now…that’s bad, right? I mean, that means it’s close, doesn’t it?”

Pam grimaced. “I think that means it’s time to find a catcher’s mitt.” A low moan came from the conference room and Jim and Pam turned bleakly to look in that direction. With a sigh, Jim straightened up to go back to his patient. Pam reached out and placed a gently restraining hand on his arm. “You know what? I’ll go check on her,” she said, standing up.

Jim placed his hand over Pam’s and squeezed. “Thank you,” he said with a half-smile.

While she’d been talking to Jim, Pam hadn’t noticed that Jan had gotten company in the conference room. Standing by the pushed-together chairs that were serving as Jan’s sickbed, Dwight and Angela were deep in conversation.

“I don’t care how many alpacas you’ve bred, Dwight, it is inappropriate for you to be involved in this.”  Angela was glaring at Dwight, her arms crossed tightly in front of her.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Birthing livestock is almost exactly the same thing. Jan and Michael need my help!” Dwight had the serious, almost pleading note in his voice he always had when attempting to make Michael happy.

“I will help her,” Angela replied. “I’m the safety officer, and I’ve supervised the births of several litters of kittens. And you…you shouldn’t be anywhere near Jan’s…private areas.”

“I appreciate your concern, Angela, but…” Dwight lowered his voice, although Pam knew he hadn’t yet noticed her in the doorway. “I assure you that in her current state, Jan’s private areas are not attractive to me in any way.” Despite the severity of the situation, Pam had to bite back her laughter as Angela’s expression softened.

Her amusement was cut off by Jan’s hoarse yell. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here! And I don’t want you anywhere near my ‘private areas’ or my baby, Dwight. Or you, either, Angela. Get out of here and go find Michael!”