Friday, November 30th

Jim pulled open the steel and glass door and stepped into the diner. The inviting smell of grilling burgers caused his stomach to gurgle, a not-so-subtle reminder that it was already a little past lunch. He scanned the room from right to left, finally spotting the woman he was there to meet in a booth toward the back. She looked up from her menu as he approached, and they greeted each other with affectionate smiles.

“Hey, Parma,” Jim said, sliding in the bench opposite her.

“I wondered if you were going to show up,” she teased.

“Of course I would. I'm the one who did the inviting, as I recall.”

“You did, but I wondered how you'd manage to escape the clutches of your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, right,” Jim laughed. “Nice talk from someone who claims to be her best friend.”

“I am her best friend. That's how I know how hard it must be for you to get five minutes to yourself.” Parma winked to assure him she was just giving him a hard time, but Jim pretended not to notice.

“Oh, it is. Pam's nothing if not a possessive, manipulative shrew of a woman.”

Parma took a sip of her coffee as the waitress approached. “Well she worked pretty hard to possess you, as I recall. You know, I can't believe it was only a year ago we planned all that.”

After ordering some coffee and one of the heavenly smelling burgers, Jim agreed with Parma's last statement. “Tell me about it. It seems like it all happened ages ago. Sometimes I can almost forget how much it took for us to finally get things right.”

“Well it took a lot of work, Halpert,” she replied. “And I'm pretty sure you are still in my debt for it.”

“That's kinda why I asked you to meet me here today,” he said slowly, pausing while the waitress appeared with his coffee and refilled Parma's cup as well. “I think I need your help.”

Parma stirred more milk into her hot drink, an amused grin growing. “Think you need my help?”

Jim nodded. “I know I don't have a chance in hell of coming up with something that could top what Pam did for me last year, but I want to do something, you know?”

“That's so sweet,” she replied, her smile genuine. “What do you want me to do?”

Jim shrugged. “I wish I knew,” he sighed. “But there's got to be something I can come up with.”

“Do you want to do the Twelve Days of Christmas surprise on her this year?”

“I thought about it, but I don't see how that would even work. To come up with twelve days of gifts to match the song would be difficult enough, but when I think how much work she put into my gifts....there's just no way I could top it.”

“You don't have to top it, Jim,” Parma said. “Granted, I know how competitive the two of you can be....”

Jim laughed as their food arrived. “No, I know. I just want it to wow her. She deserves that much.”

They tossed around gift ideas and surprise plans as they ate, but nothing struck Jim as being just want he wanted. “You'd think after a year together I'd know exactly what to do,” he complained.

His comment sparked an idea in Parma. “You guys have been together a year, right?”

“Just about.”

“What date do you consider your anniversary then?”

Jim thought a moment. “We've never actually spelled out a specific date as some sort of anniversary, but I remember we did once agree that things finally started looking up for us on New Year's Eve.”

 “Hmm,” was all she said as she finished her french fries.

“Hmm?” Jim prompted.

“Oh, I was just thinking that this New Year's Eve will be one year for you, right? And how many months are in a year?”

“Twelve,” he replied, not quite sure where the conversation was leading.

“Right, twelve!” She suddenly leaned forward excitedly. “Like the twelve days of Christmas!”

“Oh-kay,” Jim nodded. “And that means what exactly?”

“What if,” Parma paused for dramatic effect. “You do a twelve days of Christmas thing for Pam, but it's not really about the twelve days of Christmas?”

“Um, I'm not sure I follow you,” he said, his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Make it more like an anniversary present. Twelve days of presents to represent the twelve months you've been together!”

Jim leaned back in the booth, considering the idea. “Like the first day could be a gift representing our first month together, then the next day is for the second month...?”

Parma nodded vigorously. “And you could plan it so the twelfth day is New Year's Eve.”

A slow smile spread across Jim's face as the possibilities for different gifts kept popping into his head. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “yeah, that could work nicely.”

Thursday, December 20

Jim tapped his foot impatiently as he waiting for Angela to go back to her desk. She was standing at the reception desk talking to Pam, and from the look on Pam's face he had a feeling that Angela was making her usual irritating demands. She had been standing there for fifteen minutes already, and he was contemplating excuses to interrupt them when he saw her finally walk away. In the next instant, Jim was out of his seat and walking toward Pam.

“What was that about?” He asked, leaning over the desk. “You weren't looking especially happy during that chit chat.”

“Please,” Pam rolled her eyes. “I don't understand why she insists on being the head of the Party Planning Committee. She's determined to suck the fun out of everything.”

“And that's exactly the reason she wants to be head of the Party Planning Committee,” he grinned. “Because if she can't be happy, then she's going to make sure no one else is either.”

“Good point,” Pam chuckled. “But it's Christmas, you know? Even Scrooge came around eventually.”

Jim picked a few red and green jelly beans out of the candy dish. “Maybe we could arrange some ghostly visitations,” he mused. “You know Kevin would just love the chance to be the Ghost of Christmas Present.”

Pam's giggle could be heard across the room, and she bent her head and covered her face with her hands when she saw Angela peer disapprovingly over the cubicle wall at her outburst. Just then the main door opened and in walked Parma.

“Hey, Parma,” Pam said, wiping traces of tears from her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Making a delivery,” she replied, placing a medium sized box on the reception counter.

Confusion was the dominating expression on Pam's face as her eyes darted from Parma's face to the box and back to Parma. “Isn't that the orange shirt you wore last year...?” Her question trailed off as she glanced over to Jim, who stood there wearing a look of complete innocence.

“It is,” Parma nodded. “Thought it was the right time of year to be back in business.”

“What's going on?” Pam asked.

“Just delivering a package,” Parma maintained, handing a clipboard over the desk to her. “Do you mind signing it for it so I can get moving?”

“Who's it for?” Pam questioned, seriously befuddled. She signed her name and handed it back.

“You, silly.” Parma smiled. “See you guys around.”

Pam stared at the box for a moment before standing up and placing it down on her desk. She glanced up at Jim, who was still leaning against the desk and watching her intently. “What have you done?” She asked, an smile of excitement appearing.

“Me?” Jim replied, straightening up. “Nothing.”

“Right,” she said, reaching for her scissors to open the box. “You had nothing to do with this.”

Jim shrugged. “Why would you assume it's from me?”

“No idea,” she grinned.

“Well, maybe you shouldn't go hurling accusations at people then, Beesly,” he said.

She shook her head. “My deepest apologies then.”

“You're forgiven – this time.”

“Shut up,” she muttered. She finally cut the tape around the top of the box and opened it. Static electricity held a few styrofoam pellets to the inside flaps, which then transferred to Pam's sweater sleeves as she pulled a few items out of the box. There was a bulky manila envelope and a wrapped square package. She stuck the now empty box on the floor and struggled to pick off the remaining pellets off her sweater.

“Sure you don't want to take credit for this?” She asked.

Jim shook his head and raised his eyebrows. “Just open it already.”

Pam grinned in excitement and tore the red and white striped wrapping paper off the package. She held the box in her hand as her smile grew wider.

“Snowman in a box?” She said, reading the printing on the box. She wasted no time in opening it, and found it was just as described: a felt hat, black stones for eyes, a thin striped scarf, and plastic orange carrot shape for a nose.

“Now that's cool,” Jim mused.

“No pun intended, I hope.”

“Of course not. That would have been too easy. What else did you get?”

Pam sat back down as she opened the flap of the envelope and looked inside. She carefully tipped the contents onto her desk blotter. An assortment of papers and trinkets rolled out, along with a sealed legal sized envelope. Pam's hands passed over the collection, quickly sorting things into piles.

There were a half dozen ticket stubs, a parking lot pass, and a few different receipts from everywhere from restaurants to Target. A packet of Swiss Miss hot chocolate with marshmallows, wooden scrabble tiles (letters X and T) and two unmatching gloves - one red, one pink – were also included, as were four foil wrappers from fun-sized York Peppermint Patties, each wrapper carefully pressed to remove all creases.

“Cleaned out your junk drawer, I see,” she teased, hoping for a reaction. Jim shrugged noncommittally, refusing to be goaded. He leaned back down on the counter, his fingers interlaced. As he waited for her to open the envelope he absentmindedly twisted the silver ring he'd been wearing for nearly a year now. When he noticed what he was doing, he remembered how many times he'd seen Pam twist her engagement ring to Roy in the exact same way whenever she'd been nervous or anxious. He clenched his hands in to fists to stop the fidgeting, but not before Pam had noticed what he'd been doing.

“Nervous about something?”

“No, it's fine,” he said dismissively. “More like force of habit to play with it.”

She nodded, not quite convinced. “I'm amazed you still wear it, to be honest.”

“Why?”

“Michael did give you a bit of a hard time when he first saw it,” she said.

“You mean every time he notices it,” Jim grimaced. “The things I do for you.”

“I said you didn't have to wear it,” she reminded him, her eyes dancing.

Jim decided to change the subject. They both knew he had no intentions of not wearing the ring – it has been weird little joke between them for as long as he'd had it. “Are you going to open the envelope or not?”

Pam picked up the ivory envelope in her hands. It was of heavier paper stock than most legal-sized envelopes, and her name was carefully printed on the front in black ink: Pamela Jane Beesly. The way the letters P and B looped at the beginning told her what she already knew. The sender of this package was the man standing in front of her. What she still couldn't figure out was what in the world it all was.

“I might save this for later,” she said, running her fingers over her name. “It might be something personal that I shouldn't be reading in the office.”

“It might,” Jim agreed. “Or it might be more ticket stubs.”

“Well I can always use more ticket stubs,” she quipped. The conversation effectively ended as her telephone started to ring. “Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.”

Jim sat back down at his desk as she went back to work, and attempted to do the same. He was, however, unable to go more than thirty seconds without glancing over at her desk, trying to see if she had opened the envelope. He told himself he wasn't nervous, that there wasn't anything to be worried about, but his inability to stop his leg from bouncing said otherwise. The only thing worse than the waiting was when he heard Michael's voice calling his name.

Pam gave Jim a sympathetic smile when he got up to go answer Michael's bellow, but in reality she was more than a little relieved. She knew he had been watching her for the last half-hour, and while she never minded any attention he paid her, she felt like insect under a microscope. Maybe it was because he was acting so strange since the parcel arrived. It was completely unlike Jim not to take credit for something he'd done. And given that it was unequivocally obvious that he was behind this, his reticence to admit it seemed even weirder. She had carefully slit open the envelope the minute he'd gone back to his desk. Despite what she's said, she was unable to wait a moment longer to see what was inside. However what she saw was not at all what she was expecting – though what she might have been expecting was unclear. But whatever the possibilities, this certainly wasn't it.

It was a letter. A handwritten letter. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of what was so important that Jim felt the need to write her a letter. Who did that anymore? There was also a small stamp-sized object wrapped in the same red and white striped paper as the snowman kit nestled in the folded pages. As the phone rang yet again, she tucked it all back into the envelope and waited for a moment where she could go find somewhere to read its contents in peace.

When she saw Michael close his office door behind Jim, she knew her chance to read the letter had arrived. She checked her email; her message to Parma asking for details was still unanswered. She glanced around the office, but no one was paying her the slightest bit of attention; nothing unusual there. She forwarded the phones to voice mail and with slightly shaking hands, picked up the envelope addressed to her and slipped out of the office and into the stairwell.

She sat on the top stair of the set of steps on half-floor down from their office. She was glad she'd started wearing her cardigans again, because she could delicately place the tiny wrapped object into one of its pockets as she turned her attention to the letter. The last time she felt this nervous about reading a letter it was the acceptance acknowledgment from Maryswood Community College. She smoothed the paper against her legs and began to read.

Dear Pam,

I used to think that summer was my favorite time of year. It was a chance to be outdoors, to spend more time in the sun, and because of so many years of education, it seemed like a time when there was less work to be done. But thanks to you, I've started to have a whole new appreciation for the winter months.

Do you remember snowstorm last winter that shut the city down and turned a normal two day weekend into a four day one? It snowed so hard even Dwight couldn't make it into work. (And why am I even writing his name in a letter to you? Scratch that last sentence from your memory – please!) The point is, I will never think of snow without remembering that January and the look of complete joy and excitement on your face when I agreed to go outside and build a snowman with you that weekend. I didn't think anyone could be that happy to be in the cold – especially someone who complains about how low I keep the thermostat set in my own apartment! (Hmm....who could that be?)

You are one of the most creative people I have ever met, and even the simple act of making a snowman brought that out in you. How long did we spend kicking around the gravel at the end of my driveway (after you made me shovel the snow off it!) until you found two equally round stones for his eyes? Sam the Snowman I know appreciated all your hard work and effort. I would have included a photo of Sam, but you never gave me a copy of the pictures you took that weekend. (Hint. Hint.)

I have to admit, if I could a moment to make time stand still, it would have been that weekend. I know I spent a lot of it just marveling at the fact that you were there, that we were together. You can't spend that much time hoping and wishing for something and not be a bit overwhelmed when your wish comes true.

That's how I spent most of January, to be honest. And problem most of February and March and April – hell, sometimes I still don't believe it. I can't believe that after everything, things really did work out. We finally worked out. It's one of the reasons I wear that ring you gave me. I can look down and see it and touch it, and know that even if you aren't with me at that moment, here's some proof that everything worked out. I don't think I've ever owned anything that held so much meaning to me.

But enough about that. I really don't want to turn this into something you could use for blackmail purposes at a later date. I just want you to remember January.

I do wish we would have taken a little more care in what movies we saw that month. I mean, we now must forever live with the knowledge that the first movie we ever saw in a theater together was Alpha Dog. Does that fact haunt you as much as it haunts me? Do you think we could maybe agree on a different movie to tell people when they ask what movie was our first movie together was? Maybe something with a bit less cringe-worthy dialog? A little less Justin Timberlake? I'd even be willing to claim it was something foreign. It could forever be our little secret.

Of course I'm not forgetting about the beginning of that month, or that night we spent at the Radisson. I can't drive past that hotel without smirking just a little bit. You totally outdid yourself with that. But in some ways it's almost like all of that happened in a month of its own, though I know that makes absolutely no sense. But you can argue it was like the true start of the new year the afternoon we walked out of that hotel.

Another thing about January was learning so many things about you. Given how long we have known each other, I liked to think I knew you so well. And I suppose in ways that matter, I did. But the little everyday things – the quirks that make you you, you could say – surprised me every day. Things like how you can't go longer than a week without losing a glove.

Or how you like to put candy in the freezer – especially those damn York Peppermint Patties! I still say you're awfully lucky I didn't chip a tooth the first time I bit into one without knowing where you'd been keeping them.

Or how you can be a graceful loser when playing board games (TOXIC for the win, thank you very much!) if there's kissing involved. Why couldn't I have learned that one sooner??

Or how you can call a trip to the supermarket a “date”. Maybe I should thank Roy for keeping your expectations so low. (Kidding! Sort of....)

The list goes on, and even now you continue to surprise me. I just hope your memories of that month mean half as much to you as mine do to me.

Anyway, thanks for helping me appreciate winter just a little more. I wish I could say the same about your cold feet, however.....

Love,

Jim

Pam folded the pages back up and and smiled softly. She stared down the stairwell in silence, her eyes not seeing the concrete walls or the metal steps, but instead replaying the images of January that he had awakened. It had really been a fairytale month for her – going so quickly from their estrangement to being together nearly every single day. She understood completely about that surreal feeling of not quite believing things were working out between despite all the evidence. She even felt a sudden craving for frozen peppermint patties.

She tucked the letter back into the envelope and was about to stand up when she remembered the item in her pocket. Carefully pulling off the gift wrap, she found a silver snowman charm. She laughed and studied it closely for a moment, then put it back in her pocket as she got up. It was well past time to get back to her desk, and she just hoped she hadn't been missed.

When she walked back into the office, Jim was already at his desk. His eyes drifted from her face to the letter she held in her hands and back to her face, his eyebrows raising comically. She stopped at her desk to put down the letter, then headed over towards him, conveniently forgetting to turn off the phone forwarding.

“Hey,” she said, leaning back against his desk as she'd done so many times before.

“Hey,” he replied, leaning back in his chair to look up at her. “Where did you disappear off to?”

“Oh, I was around,” Pam replied smoothly. She put her hand in her pocket, and felt the charm nestled there. “Hey I heard we might be getting snow this weekend.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she nodded. “I just thought you'd like to know.”

Friday, December 21

Pam wondered if she'd ever completely understand the man she'd been living with for the past six months. Just when she thought she was sure she anticipate his every reaction to things, he'd go the complete opposite direction. Yesterday's surprise package arrival was a perfect example. It was completely unlike Jim to not take credit for his ideas, especially if they were good ones. He wasn't the type to do something as a “secret admirer” - especially not these days. Often it seemed like he made a point of telling her he'd done something for her so he could remind her how much he liked doing things for her. She knew he put a lot of effort into telling her she was loved, and valued, and special. Even though she loved being treated like that, it had taken a while to get used to. So for him to send such a personal letter and trinkets and never directly acknowledge that they were indeed from him was, well, weird. Even when she slipped the snowman charm on a chain the following morning and wore it in place of her usual necklaces, he noted it without actually taking credit for it.

Jim was washing the last juice glass out when she walked into the kitchen. Since today was the office Christmas party, she'd had an appropriate outfit picked out for weeks. However she also wanted him to notice what she was wearing around her neck, so she'd opted out of the white turtleneck she was going to wear, and instead dressed in just her new red cardigan with a black skirt, the first two button undone to best show off the necklace. She stood next to him at the kitchen counter, her head tilted up just slightly. She couldn't be more obvious that she was trying to get him to notice the necklace if she'd wrapped a neon sign around her head.

He looked over at her as he put the last plate in the drainer. “That's a nice sweater. Is it new?”

“It's the one I bought over Thanksgiving weekend when I went to the outlet mall with your mom,” she nodded. “But that's not the only thing new I'm wearing.”

Jim stepped back and gave her an exaggerated once-over, even requesting she do a twirl so he could see what else was new. “Matching red underwear?” he guessed.

“You wish,” she chuckled, tilting her head up a little higher. The gleam in his eye told her he had noticed the necklace, but was just giving her a hard time.

“Um, new earrings?”

“You gave me these for my birthday and you know it.”

Jim shrugged and leaned back against the counter. “I got nothing.”

She sighed and pulled the collar of her sweater open a little more. “Here!” She said, “Look here!”

Jim leaned over, his face comically close to her neckline. “Oh!” He replied. “Is it the necklace?”

She pushed him away in mock exasperation. “And circle gets the square.”

“Okay, Dwight.”

“What? So one time he actually gave you a funny comeback,” she teased. “I can use it, too.”

“Whatever, Dwight.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “Honestly, why do I even bother talking to you?” The conversation was not going the way she'd hoped and decided to just abandon her attempt to get him to admit the charm was from him, even as they both knew damn well it was. She turned to walk into the living room when he grabbed her arm.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I'm just giving you a hard time.”

“Really? I hadn't noticed.”

“Let me see the necklace again,” he asked.

She slowly turned back around for inspection. She closed her eyes when his hand came up to her collarbone, and his finger traced the skin around the charm. She thought it was entirely unfair how such a light touch could make her knees go week, especially given how long they'd been together by now. And the fact that she was barely awake.

“Do you like it?” He asked, breaking her reverie.

“Yes, very much,” she replied, opening her eyes and smiling up at him. “And his name is Sam.”

A lopsided grin spread across his face. “Sam?”

“Yeah,” she replied, a bit defiant at his smirk. “Sam the Snowman.”

“And do you always give your necklaces names?”

“Sometimes,” she replied. “For the special ones.”

“You probably give names to all sorts of inanimate objects,” he teased.

“Oh, you're one to talk,” she retorted. “Or does Chester mean nothing to you now?”

She was referring of course to the brown and white teddy bear that still held a place of honor in Jim's old bedroom at his parents' house. She had discovered it on her first visit to meet his parents, and Jim's mother had only been too happy to regale her with the bear's history. Chester had been given to Jim as a gift from his grandmother, a souvenir of a trip she'd made to see friends in England. He'd been just over four years old at the time, and couldn't quite pronounce the whole name of the city she'd been visiting, so instead of naming the bear Manchester, it was shortened to Chester.

“Hey, you leave him out of it,” he replied. “That's different.”

“How exactly?”

“He's not made of metal, for one thing.”

“Oh, so only things cuddly can be given names?”

“Yes,” he nodded with conviction, though it was apparent he was trying very hard not to smile.

“Oh you are so full of it,” she replied. “And if you still love him so much I don't see why you don't bring him here to live.”

“Maybe I would if I thought you'd be respectful,” he teased. “You seem to take great pleasure in mocking him, and he doesn't deserve it.”

“Oh, it's not Chester I'm mocking,” she grinned, walking away from Jim to gather her shoes and coat for their departure.

“Nice,” Jim replied, turning off the kitchen light and grabbing his coat and messenger bag. “Now hurry up or we're going to be late.”

He was standing at the open door as Pam slipped her coat on and approached him. “Well his name is still Sam,” she told him, “and I like him very much.”

Their eyes met for a moment, then Jim leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. “Good,” he replied, then turned to head down to the car.

Pam spent most of the morning helping Angela and Phyllis prepare for the afternoon's party. Michael had brought in another bigger-than-needed Christmas tree earlier in the week, so that part was done, but Angela's choice of party theme meant that a significant portion of the other decorating had to be left for that day.

With all the attention the environment had been getting in the news, Angela decreed that this year's party would be focused on the natural side of Christmas. She didn't want them decorating with the usual streamers or other paper decorations, but instead with pine boughs and holly branches. She brought in poinsettia plants on Wednesday, but said she wasn't have the other pieces delivered until Friday morning, else they'd be dead and wilted before the party even started.

So while Phyllis was of tying pine garland to things in the break room, Pam found herself trying to make some sort of arrangement with the pieces of holly branches Angela had given her. But the branches were awkward and unwieldy, and the tips of the leaves very, very sharp.

“Ouch!” Pam cried for not the first time. She had been pricking her fingers repeated on the holly leaves and was quickly getting aggravated by the whole thing. She noticed that with this latest injury she had actually drawn blood so she stuck her index finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding.

“Having problems in here, Beesly?” Jim strolled into the conference room, his hands in his pockets.

Pam took her finger out of her mouth and extended it in his direction. “Oh, Angela and her damn green Christmas. These holly branches keep attacking me.”

“Ahh,” Jim said, sympathetically. “Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?”

Pam smiled at his offer but before she could reply Kevin wandered in. “Hey, what's going on?”

“Pam's being eaten alive by holly branches,” Jim informed him.

“You better be careful,” Kevin told Pam. “Those things are poisonous.”

“I think they're only poisonous if you eat it,” Jim replied. “Not if it eats you.”

“Hmmm,” Kevin said, clearly not convinced. “I'd still be careful.” He looked around the room and then took a step closer to Jim and Pam. “When is Angela going to be putting out her double chocolate brownies?” He asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

“I don't know,” Pam whispered back. “But probably not for a little while.”

“Damn,” Kevin sighed. “You'll let me know when she does though, right?”

Pam nodded solemnly. “You'll be the very first person I tell, Kev.”

“Awesome,” Kevin replied. He slowly shuffled out of the room as Pam leaned into Jim, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Oh hey,” Kevin said, leaning back into the doorway. “If this is a Christmas in Nature kind of theme, where's the mistletoe?”

“Good question,” Pam replied.

“If we're having holly we should be having mistletoe,” Kevin grumbled.

When Jim was sure Kevin was truly gone, he turned to Pam. “So where is the mistletoe, Miss Party Planning Committee member?”

“What do you think? Angela forbid it.”

“Forbid it?” Jim laughed.

“Oh yeah,” Pam nodded. “She said it would encourage lascivious behavior.”

“Maybe,” Jim mused. “But I bet Michael won't need any mistletoe to be encouraged into inappropriateness.”

“Definitely not,” Pam agreed. “But having said that, don't be fooled into thinking that there isn't some mistletoe hiding around here somewhere.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Beesly, are you holding out?”

“Well, you know how I get when I'm told I can't do something.”

“I do indeed,” he grinned.

“So when Angela told Phyllis this week that she forbid mistletoe to be at the party...”

“You ran right out and bought some,” he finished.

Pam saw Angela approaching the conference room. “Meet me by the elevator in five minutes,” she told him.

“Gotcha,” he nodded, slipping out of the room before Angela got any ideas about putting him to work.

Jim was leaning against the wall when Pam finally made it out to the hallway. “I thought you were standing me up,” he teased as she approached.

“Hardly. Angela was giving me a lesson in Holly Arranging 101.”

“Exciting.”

“You know it.”

“So what's behind your back?” he asked.

Pam had come out of the office with both hands behind her back, and her grin at his question confirmed she had been trying to hide something. “Close your eyes,” she requested.

He stood up straight and did as she asked. “If this is a pie in the face you are going to be in so much trouble,” he warned her.

“Dork,” she said affectionately. A beat later she said, “Okay, open your eyes.”

When he did he was greeting to the sight of Pam holding a small mistletoe ball over her head, extending from a red velvet ribbon. She looked up at him with a mix of mischievousness and expectancy. “Merry Christmas, Jim,” she said.

He leaned down and kissed her, his hands coming up to cup her face. “Merry Christmas, Pam,” he whispered before he kissed her again.

It wasn't very long before Pam dropped her arm from over her head and instead wrapped it around Jim's shoulders, pulling him closer. Part of her knew they shouldn't be standing in the open hallway kissing like that, but the other part didn't really care. It was Christmas, and it was turning out to be the kind of Christmas she'd dreamt of for a long, long time.

They were still wrapped up in each other when the ding of the elevator was heard, and even when the elevator doors opened. They were oblivious to the presence of another person until that person cleared their throat loudly. They broke apart to find Parma standing before them.

“Oh hey,” Pam said, taking a step back from Jim. “Hi, Parma.”

“So is this what you guys do all day at work?” Parma teased.

“Usually,” Jim grinned.

Pam elbowed him. “Is not.”

“I need to get a job like that,” Parma replied.

“So what brings you here?” Pam asked, though the answer was obvious from the envelope in Parma's hands.

“You know, just in the neighborhood, thought I'd run up and say hello,” she replied. “Oh, and give you this.” She handed the large padded envelope to Pam.

“Another one?” Pam asked.

“Another one.” Parma nodded. “And don't tell me you're surprised.”

Pam glanced up at Jim, who's face was remarkably expressionless. “No, I guess not. I just hadn't thought about with the craziness of the morning.”

“Why? What's happened?” Parma asked.

“Angela and her Christmas party,” Pam said.

“Ah,” Parma replied. “Say no more. I've heard that story before.”

“You should stay and live it though,” Jim suggested. “It's so much better in person.”

“I'll bet,” Parma laughed. “No thanks. We're still on for tomorrow though, right Pam?”

“You bet.”

Parma pressed the down button to call the elevator. “Good. I'll be by with the dresses tomorrow. Probably around lunchtime.” The elevator doors opened and Parma stepped inside. “I'll give you a call before I head over,” she called as the doors shut.

“Dresses?” Jim asked.

“For New Year's Eve.” His blank stare was his only response so she continued. “We're going out with Parma and a few other people this year, remember?”

“I thought we were going to Kevin's again.”

“I don't think Kevin is having a party this year. He said something about Stacey not wanting to clean it all up the next day.”

“Ah, okay. But we aren't doing anything too fancy, are we?”

“No, just some dinner and dancing.” She looked up at him. “I'm sure I told you about this. I wouldn't have made arrangement without you.”

“Oh, you probably did,” he replied, resting his hand on her shoulder. “I've been distracted by things lately. Whatever you want to do I'm sure will be great.” He took the opportunity to give her another quick kiss. “But what's wrong with the dresses you currently have?”

“Parma says she's seen my wardrobe and I don't have anything festive.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Jim mused. “That little satiny pink number you have always puts me in a party mood.”

Pam giggled and hit him playfully. “I think that outfit's just a little TOO festive, don't you? Plus I'm sure it's highly inappropriate for this winter weather.”

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed again. She looked down at the envelope in her hands and glanced back up at Jim. “Come on,” she said, moving toward the stairwell door.

“Where are we going now?”

“I want to open this before Angela comes hunting for me.”

She opened the stairwell door and turned to see that Jim wasn't following. “What's wrong?” She asked.

“I'm thinking it's going to be too obvious if we both are missing. Why don't I go back so I can keep Angela distracted if she's looking for you?”

Pam frowned slightly at his response. “Don't you want to see what's inside?”

“Sure I do. But you can show me later.”

“But who could it be from?” She teased.

Jim threw up his hands. “Could be from anyone,” he replied, a smirk appearing. “See you in a bit.” He turned and walked back into the office before she could think of anything more to say.

Sighing, she walked back down the stairs and sat in the same place she'd opened yesterday's letter. She set the mistletoe down, then tore open the red strip across the envelope's flap and gently coaxed the contents out onto the landing next to her. The package had felt a bit bulky, and she soon saw why. There was a menagerie of trinkets: a fridge magnet from Phyllis' wedding, two small Care Bear valentines – the kind elementary school student exchange, a folded catering menu from Angelina's, two corks, a thin, flat something wrapped in red and white striped paper, and another ivory envelope that Pam felt sure contained another letter, and, she hoped, maybe another charm.

She smiled as she held each item in her hands. Given the nature of yesterday's gift she already expected a February theme to today's package, but she was still a bit overwhelmed by all the little things he'd included from that month. It had truly been a special month for them. She unwrapped the striped gift to find a thin children's art book: Make it Pop!: Activities and Adventures in Pop Art, and she laughed out loud.

Of all the people who had attended her first art show that month, Oscar's boyfriend Gil was the only one who didn't seem to have anything good to say about her work, though he hadn't said anything directly to her. She had stepped outside the hot gallery to get some air with Jim when they overheard Gil talking to Oscar. He said that while he hadn't expected much from Pam's first show, he could still tell she was not heading toward a life as a great artist. Oscar scolded him for being so harsh, and Gil had flippantly replied that maybe if she worked hard enough she could maybe – just maybe! - manage to fall into a career in Pop Art for middle America.

She had at first been terribly crushed by Gil's criticism, but Jim's tirade on the extensive list of Gil's faults soon had her laughing it all off. She came into work the next day to find Jim had sent her an email listing link after link of the importance of Pop Art and the artists associated with the genre, with Warhol and Lichtenstein topping the list. His ability to turn criticism into a compliment made her fall just that much more in love with him.

Still smiling at the memory, she carefully opened the ivory envelope to find a letter even longer than the last.

Dear Pam,

For a month that has the least amount of days, we certainly made the most of it. February was even more fantastic than January, due in no small part to the amount of time I spent with you. A single day did not go by without being around you, and most days that meant the full twenty-four hours. I have to admit I wondered how long it might be before we grew tired of seeing each other all the time (and I mean ALL THE TIME!), but it never happened. At least, it never did for me – even now. I hope you aren't getting fed up of me yet, because I'm still waiting for the boredom to set in. I'm still waiting for the day I wake up and think “Man, Pam again?” Somehow I just don't see it happening, Beesly. So it looks like you might just be stuck with me.

One of my favorite memories of February was walking into the church with you at Phyllis and Bob's (Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration) wedding. You looked so beautiful that day, and I was so proud to be seen next to you. I have to admit that I had been looking forward going to the wedding with you – I knew it was going to be the first time I'd ever had the chance to dance with you. And though we both know I'm not exactly Fred Astaire, the idea of holding you in public like that was one I enjoyed greatly.

That's not saying it was the perfect night – I think we both know that it was far from that. You seemed surprised that I recognized so many of the pieces of the wedding had been taken right from your plans with Roy, but seriously – how could I not have noticed? As much as I hate to admit it, I probably knew the details of your (thankfully aborted) wedding to Roy nearly as well as you did. I watched you plan it every work day those last three months, and I learned to hate every bit of it. So while I know how weird it was for you to see that all playing out, it felt kinda weird to me too. I don't know - maybe that's why I stuck so close to you for most of the night.

And then there was that incident with Roy. Looking back, I agree it was a stupid idea to say what I did to him. But can you really blame me? He had been giving me dirty looks from the minute we arrived for the ceremony, and I know as soon as he hit the reception he headed straight for the bar and stayed there. Granted, knowing he was drunk should have made his actions bother me less. But instead they bothered me more. I am still sorry if I embarrassed you that night; it really wasn't my intention. But keep in mind my viewpoint – I go off to the restroom and return to find that not only did he pay Kevin twenty bucks to play “your song” but then he insisted you dance with him through it.

And maybe if it had just been that, I could have let it go. I knew he still wasn't over you – he'd made that clear enough every time he found ways to come up to the office. But when he asked you to take a walk with him, and then kept asking even after you politely said no several times, well – what did you expect me to say? It shouldn't be a surprise to you that I have hard time being civil to him at the best of times. But yeah, telling him you didn't belong to him anymore and he should just go away and grow up probably wasn't my best choice of words. Especially since I'm sure you remember exactly what I did say. At least it was in the parking lot where most of the wedding guests couldn't hear us.

Anyway, I've spent way too much time talking about the negatives – that night overall was amazing, and I'd live through all of it again if given the chance. You were so beautiful and I'm glad Kelly insisted on taking your picture that night.

But expect one of your clearest memories of February centers on that little holiday that falls about mid-month that we both used to hate with a passion – you because of how unappreciated you were by some clueless oaf who shall remain nameless, and me because I wanted to be the clueless oaf who WOULD appreciate you. (See how I did that? I'm so clever.)

So I guess I kinda overdid it, didn't I? I tried – I really did! - not to try and cram six years of belated Valentines into one holiday, but I simply couldn't resist. The flowers that arrived on the date had been planned probably since the day I realized you really wanted to be with me. Then a comment you made about week before the day (the one where you said you were glad Phyllis was on her honeymoon so you didn't have to spend the day delivering gifts to her) gave me the idea that perhaps under all the complaining about Phyllis was someone who wouldn't mind getting a few too many presents herself. Not that I'm implying you're greedy.....just go back to the last paragraph where I mention how under appreciated you used to be. (Emphasis on USED TO BE.)

Then the idea steamrolled. Maybe flowers sent to work and home was a bit much, but I would do it again just to see that look on your face. The dinner and the wine and the extra wine at home made it the best Valentine's Day I could ever imagine. And as for the scavenger hunt, once I opened the box of Care Bear valentines, I had to do something with all of them! I'm still not entirely convinced there aren't still cards lurking in your belongings. The box said 30, not 26.

I know you laughed and called me crazy, but I also knew you loved it. And most importantly, you knew that I loved you. Just like I always had, and just like I always will.

And if I was proud to be seen with you at Phyllis' wedding, which I was, it was nothing compared to how I felt the night of your first art show. I remember how nervous you were, but all I could see was how far you'd come from the girl who thought the Dunder Mifflin graphic design internship was beyond her reach. I don't know enough about the workings of art to agree or disagree with your technical assessments, but I do know that work like that just changes you. Not a lot, but enough that even I can see that it's what you should be doing as much as possible. I want you to know that I'll always do whatever I can to help you with that. It would be a shame to waste your talents.

And by the way, Gil is still an ass.

God, I honestly didn't mean to write this much – I told you we did a lot in February! I hope this letter and these items remind you of what a good time we had that month.

Love,

Jim

She next opened the tiny package that was with the letter. She smiled as she unwrapped another charm, this one almost bringing tears to her eyes. It was a tiny artist's palette, the paints represented by glistening enameled colors. She held it tightly in her hand as she composed herself to go back to work. She gathered all the little mementos and put them back into the large envelope, but at the last minute she took the charm out again. She unhooked her necklace and slide the new charm on the chain next to the snowman. She put it back on, grabbed her envelope and stood up. She would make sure that Jim noticed what she was now wearing, and she would also make sure that the mistletoe ball got put to very good use.

Saturday, December 22

Pam was barely awake when she sensed she was alone in bed. She opened her eyes and sat up, confused for a moment about what day it was. Jim was never the first out of bed. Never. She was rubbing her eyes and trying to get her bearings when he walked into the bedroom, a towel around his waist evidence of his recent shower.

“What time is it?” Pam asked. “Why are you up? It's Saturday, right?”

Jim returned to his place in bed next to her, the towel dropped unceremoniously to the floor as he slipped under the covers. “It is Saturday,” he said, pulling her down into his arms. “And it's just before nine. I didn't wake you, did I?”

“I don't know,” she answered truthfully, cuddling closer. “But I noticed you were gone."

Jim smiled as he kissed her forehead. “Miss me, did you?”

“Maybe,” she pouted, then tilted her face towards his, looking for another kiss. “But why are you already up?”

He obliged her by kissing her for a few moments before finally answering. “Mark's been on me for ignoring him lately, so I promised I'd go over and do some guy things with him today.”

“Guy things?”

“Yeah, you know – things he and I used to do before I got saddled with such a demanding girlfriend.”

“Oh, like stand around staring at the engine of Mark's car and pretend you even know what you're looking at?”

“Exactly,” Jim laughed. “And then maybe shoot some hoops after that.”

“Well you have a good time with that,” she smiled, rolling her eyes.

“You don't mind, do you?” He asked, looking serious. “You said Parma was coming over later so I thought it would work okay to go over today.”

“Of course it's okay,” Pam said, a bit surprised at his question. “You don't need my permission to hang out with your friends. I'm not really that demanding, am I?”

Jim chuckled and leaned down to kiss her neck and shoulders. “Not in that way, no.”

She ran her hands along his back as he moved even closer. “In what way then?” she asked.

“In the way that makes me feel like I'm going to be running late this morning,” he replied.

Jim was right. By the time he actually left for Mark's it was much closer to lunch than breakfast. Pam encouraged him to spend the afternoon with his friend, and to call her for a ride back if their drinking got out of hand.

“I think I gave up afternoon drinking shortly after I left college,” he replied as he slipped his coat on. “It's more likely I'll need a ride because I pulled something playing basketball.”

“Okay, gramps, whatever then.” Pam grinned and kissed him goodbye. “Just be careful. Christmas is in three days and I need you healthy.”

Pam has showered and changed into some old sweats by the time Parma called to say she was on her way. When she walked through Pam's door, it was clear she wasn't kidding about bringing dresses for Pam to try on. She had four hangers in one hand, and had to go back for four more, plus a large black tote bag.

"I'm not going to the prom, Parma," Pam complained good-naturedly. "It's just for New Year's."

"No reason you can't look your best, PJ."

Pam cringed slightly at the nickname. Ever since she'd made the mistake of telling her friend that she'd grown up with her mother calling her PJ - because of her name of Pamela Jane - Parma thought it was beyond amusing to call her the very same thing. It's not that she minded it so much, but she knew that eventually Jim would discover this little nickname. And once he found out, he would no doubt tease her mercilessly with it forever. She reminder herself to have a chat with Jim's mom to find some dirt on him in case it ever came to that. She knew if she asked, Mrs. Halpert would be more than happy to come up with something - on their last visit she pulled out the baby photos for Pam while Jim sat in the corner complaining in embarrassment. But he certainly had been an adorable baby, even if his ears were a bit big even back then.

"Earth to PJ," Parma said, waving her hand in front of Pam's face.

"Sorry," Pam replied. "Just thinking. Where do we start?"

Parma separated her selections first in length and then into color. Two dresses Pam rejected immediately because they were too long for her liking. "Again, let me remind you that this isn't prom," she said, placing the rejected dresses on the chair nearest the door.

"Fine," Parma sighed. "But you are passing up the opportunity to be fabulous."

"And you are starting to sound more and more like Kelly Kapoor," Pam teased.

Parma looked at her in mock horror. "Oh, that is SO uncalled for," Parma replied. "Take that back right now."

Pam laughed. "Well, you did grow up next door to her,"

Parma put her hands on her hips and glared at her. "Take it back. Take it back or I'll tell Jim about that lingerie buying spree you went on in January."

"Well he's seen all the purchases, so it's not going to be that much of a surprise," Pam retorted.

"Yeah, but did he see what you passing off as underwear before that? I have photos of granny pants that can be mailed to him anonymously."

"Shut up!" Pam laughed. "You wouldn't!"

"Hell yeah," Parma grinned. "Remember that weekend last November when I stayed over because you were upset about Jim and what's-her-name but were too proud to admit you were upset?"

"Yeah..."

"And we did all that girly stuff like mud masks and pedicures?"

"Yep..." Pam didn't like where this conversation was heading.

"Well, as I recall, pictures were taken. That's all I'm going to say."

They grimaced at each other for moment before Pam broke out laughing. "Fine. I take it back. Kelly Kapoor has nothing on you."

"Thank you." Parma nodded graciously. "Now try this red one on first."

Pam tried on the first four dresses, but none of them pleased her. If the bodice fit nicely the skirt was still too long, or if the skirt was flattering there was too much cleavage showing.

"Honey, there is no such thing as too much cleavage. It's not like he hasn't seen it already."

"Yeah, but I don't want to spend the night worrying I'll pull a Tara Reid," she replied. "Or was that Lindsay Lohan?"

"I'm sure they've both done it many times," Parma sighed. "At least you'll have enough sense to wear underwear."

Parma laid the last two dresses on Pam's bed. One was black, with patterns of spangles along the neckline that made it much dressier than it first appeared. The second was a red one, but so much different from the first red one Parma had shown her that it immediately caught Pam's attention. It was a darker red, with an uneven hemline and a overlay of sheer black netting with silver embellisments. When she tried it on, she discovered that the underdress was actually fuschia, and wondered if she'd ever worn anything that bright before. Looking at herself in the mirror, she had to admit that at least she didn't look like an escapee from a bridal party.

"Oh, that is SO it," Parma enthused as she had Pam twirl around for her. "That's the dress."

"It is nice," Pam replied, running her fingers over the silver stitching. "But it's a bit extravagant, don't you think?"

"It's the start of a new year, PJ," Parma urged. "Be extravagant. Think of Jim's reaction when he sees you in that."

"But I don't have any shoes to match."

Parma made a dismissive sound. "We can work that out next week. You are so wearing that dress."

Pam looked at herself in the mirror again, and had to admit it was quite a lovely dress. "Okay," she smiled. "You win."

"Me? I think you're the one who's going to be winning in that outfit," Parma replied. "I'm just doing my job."

Pam looked over her shoulder at her friend as she slipped out of the dress. "And what job is that?"

Pama began putting the other dresses back on hangers. "Oh you know," she shrugged. "Just helping you out. My job as your friend."

Pam pulled her sweats back on and sat down on the bed. "That reminds me," she mused. "Just what do you and Jim having going on?"

Parma glanced up, surprised. "What? Nothing! We don't have anything going on."

"Really?" Pam smiled. "Then how did you get back into the holiday delivery business?"

Parma didn't answer, and instead picked up the remaining dresses and walked out of Pam's bedroom.

"Hey, you know I'm not going to let you leave until you answer me," Pam called after her. There was still no reply so she darted into the living room. "Parma?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to plead the fifth on that one," Parma finally said, as she opened up her black tote bag. "And speaking of, this is for you."

She dropped a padded envelope gently on Pam's coffee table. "Isn't it fun to get little surprises though?"

"It is," Pam agreed, picking up the envelope and hugging it to her chest. "I'm just not sure where this is all going. I mean, last year at least he knew the theme."

"There's been no rhyme or reason to these then?"

Pam tilted her head. "Well, yeah - he seems to be doing a year in review."

"Well that's certainly a theme then."

"I know. It's just, well - " Pam sighed and sat down on the couch. "Well, he's been so weird about it. I purposely kept silent last year, so he couldn't be absolutely sure it was me until the end. But I know these are from Jim because he signs the letters! But if I start to talk about them, he changes the subject."

Parma shrugged. "He's a guy. Maybe writing things down and talking out loud about them are just two different things. I think it's certainly easier to tell a person something in a letter than face-to-face."

"True," Pam nodded. "But are you guys planning some big payoff at the end of all these letters?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Parma replied matter-of-factly. "And that's all I'm going to say on the subject."

Pam watched as her friend gathered up the rejected dresses and prepared to leave. "You do know what he's planning, don't you?" She asked.

"No idea," Parma repeated. "In fact I know so little about the whole thing that I don't even know whether or not he's even planning anything at all. Maybe it's just meant to be love letters, Pam. I think the letters alone are a very sweet idea."

"I do too," Pam agreed quietly.

It was less than a minute from the time she waved goodbye to her friend to the time she sat down in front of the coffee table and opened the latest envelope. She pulled out the contents and placed them in front of her. There were movie ticket stubs, a receipt from a toll booth, a folded piece of paper and a swizzle stick. There was also a flat rectangular package with a note to "open after letter" attached to it, and a flattened lid of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. And of course, the ivory enveloped. It felt slightly thicker than the last one, and carefully but eagerly slit open the envelope and began to read.

Dear Pam,

I suppose by this point it you can guess what this letter is going to be about. Maybe if you weren't so educated on the idea of time you wouldn't expect March to follow February, but your cleverness is one of the things I love about you. I just wonder if you'll remember everything I do about that month.

The saying is that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. I'm not sure it's entirely true, but we did start off the month in an interesting way We had our first taste of Dunder Mifflin corporate life that month when Michael made me attend the dinner party at David Wallace's house. You really didn't think I was going to subject myself to that scenario without you right beside me to keep me sane? I mean there were way too many egos in under one roof, and without our guessing game of who outranked who it would have been even more awkward than it was. Maybe less awkward if Michael hadn't been there. I almost felt sorry for Jan that night, except as you so rightly reminded me - she was in that relationship willingly. I guess she gets what she deserves in that case.

Besides being proud to show you off - yes, in case you hadn't already figured it out, I'm only with you because of your high value as eye candy. Hope you don't mind. I'm sure you get the same benefits from me. (Quit laughing, Beesly!!!) Anyway, besides the highlight of just being with you, the evening turned out not to be a total loss. I mean, how cool was it to discover that the host of the whole thing turned out to be a normal guy? Slipping out of the house to go shoot hoops with him was NOT the way I expected the night to go. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that you didn't want to be left alone in the house, but thanks anyway for sneaking out with us. Of course, I didn't realize until that night how naturally cheerleading came to you. *grin*

At least I made it up to you by taking you to see Amazing Grace - even if I never did buy your story of wanting to see it for the historical background. I saw the way you looked at Ioan Gruffudd in the previews. (What kind of name is that anyway?) And yeah - it was an okay film, I guess. But still not as great as 300 was, no matter what you say. At least we both agree that Zodiac rocked. Have I thanked you lately for not insisting we go to every chick movie every made?? I knew I had found the right girl when you turned your nose up at seeing that Molly Shannon movie, even though you knew Alan Cummings was in it. You did drag me to see Blades of Glory, though - so maybe that balances everything out.

That month the weather was pretty grim as I recall, so I guess that's why we ended up spending so much time in the movie theater. It was also probably why you ended up sick for your own birthday. Not that I had planned much for it - just a night of eating out at the most expensive restaurant in Scranton, and then going to that piano bar you'd been talking about for weeks. Oh, and the hotel room I'd reserved since I knew we'd probably not be in driving condition. So yeah, not much. So no need to still feel guilty about that. What happened instead involved a lot of Puffs Plus and won ton soup, as I recall. Oh, and the ice cream hunt. If I live to 100, I'll never forget the ice cream hunt.

It started, as I'm sure you remember, as we were watching The Colbert Report over the exciting won ton soup birthday dinner, right there in your living room. You mentioned how Ben & Jerry's had made an ice cream in Colbert's honor, and we agreed that was pretty cool. Then before the closing credits had even finished, you looked at me, sniffling from under your blanket, and asked if we could go out and get some of that ice cream. Even if it hadn't been your birthday, how could I have resisted that look?

So we faced freezing weather and falling snow, and went in search of the ice cream. First we hit Price Chopper (or should I say *I* hit Price Chopper while you stayed curled up under your blanket in my car, heater on full blast) - no luck. Then we went to Giant, and then another Price Chopper. The stock guy at Giant hadn't even heard of it. So we blamed it on the misfortune of living in Scranton and drove to Wilkes Barre to see if we could find it. You looked so disappointed when nowhere in Wilkes Barre had it that I felt I had to make it my personal mission to find some for you.

I might have given up a little sooner had I realized it had only been released to the public like two weeks earlier - and therefore almost NO ONE had it! I found that out when I finally located a store that carried it. A store just north of Philadelphia, if you remember. At least you were able to sleep the whole trip! Although you looked so delighted and grateful when I finally brought a pint of it to the car (and had remembered to buy plastic spoons as well), I knew it had been worth all the effort. The only downside was that by the time the weekend hit, I was suffering from your cold. So thanks for that. Really. (I know - you did take care of me pretty well when it was my turn to sneeze and sniffle.)

But I suppose the biggest thing that happened to us in March was something neither of us expected, and it certainly put our relationship to the test. It's still folded up all accordion style, so you might not have realized what it was, but if you look closely at the objects I've enclosed with this letter you'll find the instructions from the test kit. Yep, that test. You'd practically thrown the box at me when you slammed the bathroom door to take the test, and I put the box and instruction leaflet on your dresser as I nervously awaited the results. It wasn't until three or four days later I noticed it was still there, and while I threw the box away, I couldn't quite let go of the instructions. I don't know why; it just seemed like something to hold on to. It was the first pregnancy scare I'd actually be part of, and by that point things between us were good again. You don't know have to stay it - I know I'm weird. (But I hear you saying it anyway.)

Pam put the letter down and looked at the items spread across the coffee table. Sure enough, the blue and white leaflet was there, still tightly creased and folded. She picked it up, aware of the slight tremble in her hand as the emotions of that time washed over her in remembrance. She ran her thumb over the paper, but didn't open it up. She didn't need to. She shook her head, amazed. She'd known for a long time what a sentimental pack rat Jim could be, but this topped it all. She glanced up toward the front door, wishing for all the world that he would walk through it, but she knew he was still planning to be gone for a few hours yet. She turned back to read the rest of this letter.

I still feel as I did then - that a pregnancy would not have been the end of the world. There's nothing more certain in my mind than the fact that you and I are in this for the long term. But given that had you actually been pregnant then, the baby would have recently arrived, I will say that not having to share you with anyone else right now makes me very happy. So I guess things worked out as they should have.

And it wasn't anyone's fault, although I know you blamed yourself. I had no idea antibiotics could mess with birth control pill effectiveness, so I don't agree that you should have known. And as I said back then - even if you did know that at some point, it had been a while since you needed to worry about things like that. (and frankly I'm glad it had been!)

The hardest part of all of it wasn't the enormity of the idea of you being pregnant. It was how easy it was to fall back into old habits and not talk to each other. I knew something was wrong when you made excuses two days in a row not to come to my apartment, and on the second day you didn't even want me coming to yours. That's why I showed up so early that Saturday.

It took everything I had not to show up the night before – I was so worried that I had done some thing wrong and you were angry with me that your confession you thought you were pregnant initially seemed like good news in comparison. That's why my initial reaction was to a laugh. Unfortunately it was bad time to laugh, and our interaction sort of went downhill from there, didn't it? You thought I wasn't taking it seriously and I couldn't seem to convince you otherwise. When I asked if you'd taken a test to confirm your suspicions you acted as if I thought you were making the whole thing up.

Remember how it took me an hour to coax you out of your bedroom to talk to me, where you then finally confessed you were too scared to take one? You admitted that you hadn't taken a pregnancy test. You wanted to know but you didn't want to know. You didn't want to risk anyone seeing you getting one, you said. But I knew you wouldn't be able to calm down until you found out either way, so I fixed you some tea and went out to buy one. The fact that I went to Rite Aid on my own and purchased a pregnancy test kit is a testament to the lengths I'd go for you, Pamela Jane Beesly. I remember throwing in a pack of Trident and a KitKat bar with the purchase, as if somehow it made me look more casual. But who looks relaxed buying a pregnancy kit? Especially after standing in the aisle for what feels like hours trying to figure out which was the best one to buy. I kept trying to look like I really knew what I was doing, because the last thing I wanted was a salesperson coming up to me and asking if I needed help. I'm sure I failed miserably though, and had you been there to witness it all, I know you would have laughed.

But anyway, you know how this story plays out: you grabbed the box out of my hands as soon as I walked in the door, then ran to the bathroom. I wanted to give you your privacy, but I wanted to be with you too, and so I followed you only to have you give me the box (and the instructions) and close the door on me. I tried not to take it too personally.

When you walked out of the bathroom and you were crying, I honestly didn't know if I hoped they were tears of relief or not. Like I said before, it was probably for the best that you weren't pregnant, but when faced with the possibility, I was surprised by how much I was kind of hoping you were. I don't think I ever told you that before, but it's true. I know that's selfish of me, but there you are.

At least some good came out of that weekend. (Besides learning to use extra protection if you are on antibiotics!) Once the weight of the worry passed, we were able to talk about how you felt and why you didn't want to tell me at first. I still adhere to that promise we made to not clam up or shut the other person out when something's wrong. Your confession that it was hard to be so open when you'd never been that way with anyone before made me angry, in the way that only Roy Anderson can bring out in me. I hope since then you've found it easier to talk to me when you need support. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Pam, and I hope you really know that. You are never alone, and no matter what happens in the future, I promise I will always be there for you. It really is just that simple.

I think I'll leave March at that, and tell you to open the gift now. I think enough time has gone by that you'll find it funny. At least I hope to God you do.

Love,
Jim

Letter finished, Pam was torn between opening the gift Jim encouraged her to now look at, or to open the tiny wrapped square that had been stuck in the letter's envelope. Having more confidence in what the smaller gift was, she opened that one first. It was, as suspected, another silver charm. This one was a miniature ice cream cone, with tiny multi-colored gemstones dotting the ice cream portion and glimmering in the early afternoon sunlight that poured in through the window. She wondered if investing in a few nice silver chains would be a good idea, as her current necklace was already getting a bit crowded.

Pam set the charm down on the table gently and reached for the other gift in the now-familiar red and white striped paper. She was tempted to wait until Jim came home, but though perhaps she should open it now. What if it wasn't as funny a gift as Jim hoped? If she looked at it now, she'd have time to think of a suitable response by the time he arrived back. She could tell it was a dvd, and as she slipped her finger under the tape to open it, ran through what possible movie it could be. She groaned as if she'd heard a very bad joke when Judd Apatow's comedy Knocked Up slipped from the paper and onto the table.

She shook her head, a smile finally breaking through. What a dork, she thought. Only he could make her laugh over what had been her one of her most traumatic experiences to date. She ripped off the plastic wrap around the box and stuck the dvd in the player, knowing exactly what she would suggest they do when he returned.

Sunday, December 23 -

Sunday morning was nearly over by the time Pam finally got out of bed. Jim didn't follow until it was officially afternoon. The day before he had come home from Mark's by dinnertime, surprised by the delicious smells of an elaborate dinner Pam was just putting the finishing touches on. They enjoyed baked chicken and fettuccine by candlelight, using the plates Pam usually insisted were for “special occasions.” But when Jim asked what the special occasion was that evening, she smiled and insisted there wasn't one.

There wasn't a special occasion, at least not in Pam's mind. The dinner and the extra effort was all part of Pam's master plan. She had thought about what Parma had said about writing feelings being so much easier than saying them. She knew it was true, but she had sort of assumed that by this point anything Jim wanted to tell her would be easily shared. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe after all this time there was still a shred of discomfort, of even fear, of being so honest with her. If that was the case Pam decided that the best thing she could do was not pressure him to talk about the letters, but still find ways to show him how much she was loving them. Show him how much she was looking forward to the next one.

Because the truth was, Pam was getting addicted to the letters. In the time it took her to read a letter over a time or two, she was already wondering what the next letter would say. She wondered how far ahead he'd written them, and if they were hidden somewhere in their apartment, or if Parma already had all of them. They were like individual treasure chests, and she was greedy for more. She thought about what Jim must have gone through last year, having to wait each day for a new gift. He had confessed what a nice bit of excitement the twelve days gifts had put in his life, even if the idea that they might not have been from her hung over him like a dark cloud. At least she had no worries who these were from. That just left the enjoyment of the surprise. She had no doubt that's what he was trying to do for her. What he didn't realize, she thought, was that their past year together had already brought plenty of excitement into her life. These letters were just icing on an already rich and decadent cake. So all the more reason, in Pam's mind, to find ways to show her appreciation. And Saturday night's efforts had extended well into the early hours of Sunday.

It was mid afternoon before anything interrupted their quiet day together. They were sprawled out on the living room couch, Jim at one end paging through the sports section of the Sunday paper, Pam propped with pillows at the other with her feet in his lap and the textbook she's borrowed from the college library in her hands. She was taking an art history class next semester, and wanted to give herself a little bit of a head start. She had a strong preference for impressionism – Monet, Cassett, and Morisot among her favorite artists of the period. Flipping through the book however, her attention was caught by other styles. She particularly liked the concept of pointillism – it was almost magic how masses of tiny dots could be formed to create some of the works done. It certainly took a special eye to do that, to be able to look beyond each small mark and see the overall effect.

Pam was about to show Jim a particularly impressive work by Seurat when his cell phone beeped to announce an incoming text message. She watched him pick his phone up from the end table, read the message and close the phone. He said nothing, but sat up and immediately began to fold up the Sunday paper.

“Who was that?” Pam asked. Her curiosity was piqued by his lack of disclosure. It was quite normal for him to tell her immediately who a message was from.

“Oh, no one,” Jim replied casually. “Just Mark with a stupid comment.” Jim put the newspaper on the coffee table as he stood up.

“Where are you going?” She asked, closing her book.

“You know, I just remembered that I need to run out to pick up a final gift for you.”

“Really?” Pam cocked her head, frowning. “I thought you told me on Thursday that you were done with all your Christmas shopping.”

“I was,” Jim stammered. “I mean, I am. But an idea came to me last night.”

“Amongst other things,” Pam smirked.

“Look who's talking,” he countered.

“Hmmph,” she replied, flipping another page in the art book. “I'm surprised you had energy left for thinking at all.”

“Anyway,” Jim said in an exaggerated voice. “I want to go out and see what I can find.”

Pam got up and followed him into the bedroom as he began to get changed out of his sweats. “If I know you, you've already spent way too much money on presents,” she said.

“It's just an idea,” he replied. “I might not even be able to get it.”

Pam stretched out on the bed as she watched him pull on his jeans. “Are you sure you really want to go out in the cold when you could just stay right here in this nice warm apartment with me?”

“That is not even a question,” Jim laughed, sitting down on the bed next to her. “But trust me, if I find what I'm looking for you'll love it.”

Pam pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I already love what I have right here.”

Jim checked his watch, then kissed her. “I won't be gone long, and then I'm all yours again.”

She trailed her fingers under his sweatshirt and along his warm back as she leaned in for another kiss. “You don't need to get me anything,” she insisted, smiling against his lips before kissing him again.

“But I want to,” he replied. His resolve to leave was weakening by her continued affection, and she thought she had won when he didn't resist her pulling him down onto the mattress with her. A few minutes later, however, he was reluctantly but determinedly pulling away.

“Hold that thought,” he grinned. “I'll expect to pick up this conversation right here when I get back.”

“Oh, do you?” She replied. “Well maybe the moment will have passed by then.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Jim narrowed his eyes at her. “That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.”

Pam shrugged and put her arms up behind her head. “Just saying.”

He leaned over and kissed her one last time before standing up. “Well, I look forward to proving you wrong then.”

“Well it better be good,” she sighed, releasing him.

“It will,” he nodded. “And I'll tell you what - I'll even bring some pizza back with me.”

“Well, why didn't you say that before?” She laughed. “Get out now.”

She waved to him from the door as he made his way to the car, the cold December wind whipping through his hair. Not that it made much difference to his appearance, Pam chuckled. She wondered if he'd still be sporting such a scruffy hairstyle twenty years from now. She decided she wouldn't mind it if he did. There was something just so Jim about that look. Maybe it was how it always made him look like he was still a few steps away from being completely grown up. As far as she could tell, being grown up was overrated anyway.

She leaned against the front door as she pushed it shut, and smiled to herself. She hadn't been convinced at all by his reason for leaving. She had been waiting since she woke up for Parma to show up with the new letter, and his reaction to the text message tipped her off that something was up. As she walked into the kitchen to make some hot tea, she had no doubts why Jim really left. She took two mugs out of the cabinet and started the water boiling as she waited for her friend's imminent arrival.

The water was just starting to boil when the knock came at the door. “Damn, I'm good,” Pam said as she opened to door. “Tea?”

Parma laughed. “Is that how you greet all your guests? And yes, I'd love some.”

“Well let's just say you guys need to work on your secret codes,” Pam replied, leading Parma into the kitchen and indicating she should have a seat at the high topped kitchen table. “I'm glad you guys were on our side during the Cold War.”

Parma grinned, though she tried to feign innocence. “I have no idea what you are talking about, PJ.”

“Amazing,” Pam replied, pouring the hot water into the mugs in front of her. “By your timing one would think you'd planned on showing up just after Jim went out.”

“Oh, he's not here?”

“No, he said he had a last minute gift to go buy.”

“Heh,” Parma snorted. “Better him than me. The mall's gotta be a nightmare today.”

“Well, I'd be surprised if he went all the way to the mall. My guess is that he's stopped at Chick's for a coffee and is assuming you'll text him when you've left here.”

“Wow, Peej,” Parma exclaimed as she stirred her tea. “I always knew you had a tendency toward conspiracy theories – but really.”

Pam raised her eyebrow sceptically. “Does that mean you don't have an envelope for me?”

“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. Maybe I just wanted to stop by and wish my best friend Merry Christmas. You are going to your mom's tomorrow, right?”

“I am,” Pam nodded, sipping her tea. “I mean, we are. Jim's first Christmas at the Beeslys, God help him.”

“Yeah, but at least he's already met your family.”

“A few times. But this is our first overnighter there.”

“Uh-oh,” Parma grinned. “Does that mean they'll be making Jim sleep in the den on the first floor while you are back in your old room on the second?”

“Oh, I'm sure Dad's plan is to put him in the basement next to his wood shop,” Pam rolled her eyes. “But what they say and what I'll do could be entirely different things.”

“Always the rebellious daughter, huh?”

“You bet,” Pam replied sarcastically. “That's me – always bucking the system.”

“Well, you can always pull a teenage meltdown,” Parma suggested. “'But Mo-o-o-o-m! All the other girls get to have their boyfriends sleep in their bedrooms!'”

Pam's laughter was genuine. “I don't think it will come to that. Given that I'm pretty sure my mom already likes Jim more than she likes me, where ever he wants to sleep will no doubt be completely okay with her.”

“What is it about him?” Parma complained. “I've yet to meet a girl who didn't like Jim.”

“No idea,” Pam shrugged. “I don't get what women see in him, personally. He's smart and funny and kind-hearted.... what's so attractive about that?”

“The mind boggles,” Parma agreed. She could tell Pam was struggling to keep a straight face. “What's even more amazing is that I hear that he really sucks in bed.”

Pam's head dropped and her giggles could be contained no longer. “Oh, now that's not fair,” she protested weakly. “He's not even here to defend himself.”

Parma laughed as well. “I think this is the part where you are the one who should be defending him.”

Pam finished her tea and brushed her mouth slightly with her hand. “I see what you're doing.”

“What?”

“You're just digging for smut talk.”

“Would I?”

“Don't you always?”

“Fine,” Parma sighed. “You can't blame a girl for trying. It's not like I have any experiences to relate lately. I've been living vicariously through you for months now.”

“Oh, and who's fault is that?”

“Not mine!” Parma protested. “I'm more than ready for the opportunity to present itself.”

“Well, there's always Ben,” Pam said lightly, tracing the lip of her mug with her finger.

“Don't start,” Parma warned. “Don't even start.”

“Fine,” Pam said dismissively. “But give me my letter.”

“What letter?”

Pam frowned fiercely at her friend. “THE letter.”

Parma smiled and reached into her purse. “Well look what I found,” she marveled. “I think this envelope is meant for you.”

Pam pulled the manila packet out of her hands. “Tease,” she complained.

“And yet, it's what you love most about me,” Parma replied smoothly.

Pam ran her hands over the envelope, wondering with excitement what the next letter would say. What trinkets Jim had collected in what - April, wasn't it? And what charm would there be to add to her collection? She looked up to find Parma staring at her, obviously amused.

“What?” Pam asked.

“Should I let you two be alone?”

“Shut up,” Pam said, slightly embarrassed. “I can wait.”

“Sure you can,” Parma teased as she finished her tea.

“I can,” Pam insisted, still clutching the envelope. “I just don't want to.”

“Now that's the Pam I know,” Parma admitted as she gave her friend a big hug. “And I don't blame you in the slightest. Enjoy.”

“So I'll see you tomorrow?” Pam asked as they walked to the door.

“I don't know. What time are you leaving?”

“I promised my mom we'd be out the door by noon.”

Parma thought a moment. “Maybe then.”

Pam just shook her head. “You and your maybes. You are enjoying this entirely too much.”

“Maybe,” Parma winked as she walked out.

Pam had already the seal broken on the envelope before the door had completely shut. She practically skipped back to the kitchen, and carefully slid the contents on to the tabletop. She found a blue and white hospital bracelet, an individual packet of tropical fruit mix Jelly Bellies, a metal egg dipper, and an information pamphlet from the Aaron Counseling Center. Pam peered inside the bag, surprised not to find at least one ticket stub in the mix. Going to the movies was a staple of their entertainment diet. She laughed as she pulled out a final piece of paper that had gotten stuck inside: one of the detached ad strips from a Netflix red rental envelope. Placing it with the rest of her treasures, Pam sat down to read the accompanying letter.

Dear Pam,

Another day, another letter, and yes, another month. I hope these aren't boring you yet! When I first thought about writing down what I remembered from this past year, I thought it would be difficult to find enough to write about. Not that I don't have many good memories, because you know I do. But how could I add to what we already both know? I guess what I didn't expect was that thinking about the past would make start to really think about the past. I know that makes absolutely no sense – but looking back I can see connections to things that I couldn't see back then. What we went through when I first came back to Scranton – between us, between me and Karen, between you and Roy – all of that seemed to prove the cliche about things having to get worse before they get better. Wait – is that a cliche? Maybe that was just something my mom used to say as a way to cheer me up. Well, whatever. The point is that I thought the bad stuff was put behind us, you know? But last April was pretty hard on us too, wasn't it?

Thankfully the big difference was that we were together. I can't imagine anything that could permanently break us up (and forgive me if I don't really want to hear any suggestions!) - but April certainly had more tears and serious talks than we'd ever had before. Again – not necessarily a bad thing, but it goes without saying that I prefer to see you smile than to cry. (And yet, I said it.) I was not sorry to see that month end.

What's the first thing you think of when you think back to April? I'd bet a whole year of commissions that it's not the Easter Bunny. At least the scar's faded – or so you tell me. I still can't see it too well myself. But I guess it's the least I could take for you. I mean, had I been in Roy's position I would have been mad, too. Except if I were Roy, I never would have been such an idiot in the first place. Yeah – I know I'm an idiot, but of a totally different kind. You're the best thing in my life, and I've always known that – even before I knew for sure that you were going to be so completely in my life.

I think the confrontation was inevitable, but I wonder if I hadn't insisted on going out to lunch that day if he would have approached you at home instead of at work. While it wasn't my intention that he lose his job, I do take some satisfaction in that he didn't get away with it, like he might have had he shown up at either of our apartments. Anger is one thing, but when he threatens to take it out on you, well – I'm not exactly a fighter (quit laughing!) but I had no hesitation whatsoever in stepping in.

I don't know what he first said to you, nor I guess, do I want to know – but when I walked outside to meet you at my car and I saw him shouting at you, well – I can't remember the last time I'd felt that angry. I guess at that point I knew it wasn't going to end well.

Did you ever talk to Angela about the whole thing? As irritating as she can be, I'm not entirely convinced she told Roy about kissing at the Dundies that year to cause trouble. I only say that because when I came back into work after the incident, she expressed almost – almost! - the tiniest amount of concern over my appearance. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn she was feeling guilty. Not that she'd ever admit that. Not to soulless heathens like us.

Of course, had we known she'd let that slip – then I'm sure you would have been able to respond to his accusation in a way that would have lessened the whole thing. You always did seem to have that knack. (Shame you had to have it at all, but that's another story.) At the very least you would have known which kiss he was talking about. I thought he was talking about the night of the benefit, too – I mean, if there was a kiss for him to get upset about, that would be the one. I'm grateful that whole scene missed being caught on tape – because even as I stood there it reminded me of a really bad sitcom plot. He accuses you of cheating because we kissed, you try to explain (NOT that you needed to!) and you think he's talking of a different kiss, and soon he realizes we'd kissed more than once. Yeah, that was a fun moment.

I wasn't surprised he hit me. Honestly, I wasn't. What amazed me was that hitting him back actually caused any damage. Granted, his nose wasn't broken, but it bleed a bit, quite a bit really, and that felt VERY satisfying to watch. Well, watch out of my good eye. I have no doubts that if Lonnie hadn't noticed what was going on he would have hit me a few more times. So, I guess I owe the Sea Monster one.

It did have a happy ending though – you sitting in the ER, holding my hand while the darvocet worked its magic. Even only able to see out of one eye, I thought you looked so beautiful sitting there. Even with the distressed look your face over how things turned out. Even with the blood – my blood! - on your shirt. Maybe I should take darvocet more often. Kidding - I suspect I'd have found you irresistible even without narcotics.

And so that's the story that will go down for generations on how I got my first set of stitches, although I'm not quite sure three stitches is all that impressive. Still, I have played years and years of basketball and baseball and I never needed more than an ice compress and a bandage – but get involved with you and suddenly I'm getting needles stuck in my head to keep my stuffing from falling out. Thanks, Pam. At least my brother Jon was impressed with that black eye I had. I think he's using the picture he took of me on his Christmas cards this year.

And so that pretty much finally ended any more interactions with Roy, and for that I'm happy. Oh, I know you still keep in touch with his family, and would never be rude to him if you ran into him – but it was like a demon was finally exorcised out of my life. Even though we'd been together for a few months, and your relationship with him had been long over – it was like the universe had let out a big sigh and said FINALLY!!! HE'S GONE!!!! I suppose that's not the mature reaction. But it's the truth, and I've promised to do my best to tell you the truth. I did not cry a single tear when he left. Yes, I know, that probably surprises you. I am full of surprises, Beesly.

But we had some fun in April, didn't we? I had certainly never had such an interesting Easter, that's for sure. My family doesn't make a big deal about the holiday – we have a nice dinner, go to church (for the semi-annual appearance), and that's about it. But yours? Geesh. It's like your mom invented the holiday with as much effort as she put into everything. I'm sure the fact that she has grandchildren to spoil helps, but I suspect that even before your sister had kids you guys were making a big fuss about things. It was pretty easy to see where you get your enthusiasm from. I think the last time I'd actually dyed Easter eggs I was a freshman in high school. I think the last time you'd dyed eggs was the Easter before last. (Dork.) I can hardly wait to see what Christmas at the Beesly household is going to be like. Seriously – I'm sure this is going to be my best Christmas ever. At least until next year.

But back to April. I suppose the only thing I'm leaving out is Michael's attempt to kill himself with a bouncy castle. Are we still sure we did the right thing in getting him to come down off the roof without jumping? It's just a shame we didn't get the castle on site for a few more days - You are a damn impressive castle bouncer. I think I need to find a way to get that back out there for your birthday.

Funny how ended up leading to one of our most serious conversations ever. It wasn't as if I had planned on it. One moment we're sneaking into the bouncy castle after everyone else had gone for the day (You were bouncing with excitement well before we even set foot in it!) - the next we're stretched out on the bobbing floor of it and I'm telling you how I know firsthand about the depression Michael was trying to talk about earlier in the day.

It felt really good to finally be able to tell you about that. I hadn't told anyone how I had been seeing a psychologist. I'd never even told my mother. It took long enough for me to admit to myself I needed the help. And I didn't tell you because I wanted you to feel guilty or responsible – because you were neither. Depression often has a genetic link, and as you know now – and I come from a line of people who've struggled with their own demons. And I know there are many people who could push through tough emotional times and take it in stride. But the therapist I eventually admitted I needed to see when I came back to Scranton really, really helped me, even if at the time it didn't seem like it. It just took a while for her words to sink in. But I am sure had I never faced things, I'd still be carrying around a lot of unnecessarily anger and frustration.

Not that you don't deserve credit for helping me sort things out, too. I think that up until that night I was still carrying a lot of guilt about what had happened between us, how I acted to Karen, etc – and you just listened. You really listened. When I think about the times that I knew you were perfect for me, I always remember that night. How could I have a better friend than you? More importantly, what did I do so right to deserve you? That is a question for the ages.

Eh – I don't really want to end this letter sounding so down. But I know most of the time we let the serious moments slide by, and I know I don't always tell you the things I should be telling you. Like how I wake up everyday thankful that you are in my life, and how nothing I do makes sense if you're not around. Trust me, I know that for a fact. I tried to live without you once, remember? I've no plans on doing that again. Ever.

Love,

Jim

The small enclosed gift was bumpier than the others had been, and Pam wondered what symbol for April he had decided on. Her breath hitched as the charm fell from its paper and into her hand – it was a silver castle, complete with corner turrets. It was a perfect reminder of their night in the bouncy castle, and she wondered yet again where he was finding these things. She reached up around her neck out of a habit these days - it was time to change out the charm on her necklace.

She mindlessly fiddled with the new charm around her neck as she sat by the living room window waiting for Jim to return. She knew the evening would be spent wrapping all the presents that Jim and Pam had bought for other people. But as she watched him pull his car back into his usual parking space, Pam thought all that could wait a little while longer. Right now she was much more interested in the idea of unwrapping things.

Monday, December 24th -

“Come on, Beesly,” Jim called over his shoulder as he struggled through the door with the large bag, “we're already late.”

“Relax,” Pam replied, rushing from their bedroom to the kitchen while attempting to put in a small hoop earring and pull her hair back into a ponytail all at once. “I didn't give them an exact exact time.”

Jim put the bag on the front porch and leaned back through the front door. “All the same, I'd rather start the holidays on a good footing with your dad.”

Pam finished stacking the Tupperware boxes full of baked goods into a gift bag and walked it over to him. “My dad already loves you and you know it.”

Jim grabbed the bag with one hand and Pam's waist with the other, pulling her close for a quick kiss. “Says you. You don't see the look he gives me when you leave the room.”

She laughed and returned his kiss with another. “What look?”

He wrapped his other arm around her waist, the bag still hanging from his fingers. “The look that says 'don't think I don't know what you do with my daughter.' ”

“Oh, right.”

“It's a frightening look, Pam,” Jim insisted.

“And yet,” she mused, “It doesn't seem to stop you.”

“Well, no, of course not,” Jim replied. “But let's just say I don't have any intention of getting caught in the act either.”

She shook her head. “Go put the bags in the car. I'll be right out.”

Pam did a final sweep of the bedroom, tucking into her overnight bag the few gifts she had hidden away from Jim's prying eyes. She was pretty sure he wouldn't purposely have peeked at his Christmas gifts, but she figured it was better not to take chances. Besides, he'd made a big deal out of hiding her gifts, even though she made it clear that sneaking a look before Christmas was one of the biggest sins in her book. The only thing more comical than their claims they didn't trust each other was the idea that they could successfully hide anything from each other, given how small their apartment was.

“You're wanted outside.” Jim's voice startled Pam, who quickly pulled the zipper on her bag shut.

“What?”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Just go see. I'm going to use the bathroom before we set off.”

He disappeared out of the room and Pam took her luggage and headed outside to see what needed her attention. She expected it was Jim's way of telling her he couldn't fit everything into the car, but was pleasantly surprised to see Parma leaning up against Jim's silver Audi.

“Hey,” Pam called cheerfully. “I didn't think we'd see you today. I stalled as long as I could.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Parma replied, greeting her friend with a warm hug. “My darling mother had me out on errands all morning. It goes against her nature if she doesn't actually wait until the last possible moment to do things.”

“That's okay,” Pam nodded, opening the back door of Jim's car to toss her bag inside. “What are your plans for Christmas?”

“The usual. Dinner tonight at my sister's. Too many family members in one room, most of them asking why I'm still single.”

“You should take a date then,” Pam suggested. “That would calm their fears that you are going to end up old and alone.”

“No, then they'd probably just pressure the poor guy to propose to me in front of them all.” Parma sighed and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Tell me again why family is so important?”

“Ask me after the holidays,” Pam laughed. “I still have to survive a few days of relatives, too.”

“Yeah, but you guys get to play the adorable couple. Nobody gives them a hard time.”

“Apparently Jim thinks my dad hates him,” Pam said.

“Really? Why?”

“The usual you're-stealing-my-daughter reason, or so Jim says,” Pam shook her head. “He claims my dad gives him dirty looks when I'm not around.”

“Does he really not like Jim?” Parma asked incredulously.

“Of course he likes Jim,” Pam said with a sigh. “What he doesn't realize is if my dad truly didn't like him, he wouldn't be looking at him at all.”

Parma laughed. “Are you going to tell Jim that?”

“Maybe,” Pam grinned. “Maybe I'll make him sweat it out another holiday. Depends what I get for Christmas.”

“PJ!”

“I'm kidding!” Pam laughed. “I'm kidding. I'll tell my dad to quit the funny looks when we get there. Not that he'll admit he was making any.” Pam looked back toward the apartment. “I wonder why Jim is taking so long.”

Parma opened the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder. “Might his tardiness have anything to do with these?” She handed Pam not one, but two manila envelopes.

“Two?” Pam said gleefully. “Yay!”

“Now don't get crazy,” Parma warned her. “One's for today, and one's for tomorrow. I'm afraid I can't manage to drive down to Harrisburg on Christmas Day, despite my commitment to service.”

“Phfft,” Pam snorted. “Like you're going to know.”

“Pam....” Parma warned.

Pam grinned. “What? You're not!”

“Should I give them to Jim to hold then?”

“Give me what to hold?” A deep, familiar voice interjected.

“Hey you,” Pam said warmly, turning toward the now-arriving Jim. “I wondered when you would get out there.”

“Sorry – my brother called to ask about tomorrow,” he explained. “What do I get to hold?”

“Nothing,” Pam replied.

“Those envelopes,” Parma said at the same time. “Pam's threatening not to play fairly.”

Jim eyed the two women. “Well we wouldn't want Pam not to play fair,” he nodded. “And she isn't exactly known for her patience....”

“I'll be fine,” Pam said insistently, wrapping both arms around the envelopes and hugging them to her chest.

Jim shrugged at Parma. “She says she'll be fine.”

Parma shrugged back. “So she says.”

“Come on, we gotta get going,” Pam said, pushing against Jim playfully and walking towards the other side of the car. “Or do you want my dad grumbling about how you can't get his daughter home in good time for the holidays?”

“Okay,” Parma laughed. “You guys have a great Christmas.” Parma hugged Jim, then walked around to hug Pam.

“And don't peek at the second one until tomorrow!” She admonished her friend.

Pam's only reply was a mischievous grin.

It was about a two hour drive to Pam's parents' house, but the trip seemed much shorter. Because despite the fact Jim and Pam were together practically all day, every day, their conversation continued on and on and on and on. Pam outlined the Beesly Christmas eve rituals. Jim responded with what his family always did on that night. Pam gave him a list of ornaments to look for on the Christmas tree – items her mother simply could not resist using year after year after year. Jim described what they would find when they drove to his parents on Christmas evening for dinner. They wondered if it would be okay to wear the same clothes in both the Beesly holiday photos and the Halpert holiday photos, since Jim forgot to pack his back up sweater. During the entire conversation, however, Pam's thoughts were never far from the envelopes sitting on her lap, and she wondered what Jim would do if she opened today's while he drove.

They were about thirty minutes from arrival when Jim stopped for gas and Pam decided she just couldn't wait a minute longer to read today's letter. As soon as he closed the car door she tore the flap of the manila envelope open. It was a bulkier envelope than most, and she feared spilling its contents all over the car, so instead she simply peered inside.

Slips of paper – varying in color, in size and in thickness – nestled at the bottom. She decided to wait until she could be alone to sort those out, though she was certain she could name the movie stubs she was sure to find. She remembered it had been a great month for going to movies. Then she remembered it had also been a great month for making out in the back of the theaters of those movies. Who cares if they were perhaps old enough to have known better? It had been fun.

She did pull out the lei that seemed to be responsible for most of the bulk. She slipped the multicolored, fabric-petaled necklace around her neck, and thought back to the day Michael took the whole office to the beach. Well, the whole office minus Toby, of course. She waited with a touch of excitement to see what Jim would say about it when he returned.

She ignored the map that was also in the package and pulled the letter out as Jim slid back into the driver's seat. Whatever he was about to say was lost on his lips as he looked over and saw what she was wearing, and then noticed the letter in her hand.

“Nice lei,” he said casually as he started the car.

“So I've been told,” she replied, unable to resist a grin.

“Wow,” Jim laughed. “Just.....wow.”

Pam giggled, while Jim shook his head and headed back onto the highway. After a few moments of silence, Pam ran her thumb over the letter and took a deep breath.

“Hey,” she said, her voice sounding throatier than she'd intended.

“Hey what,” Jim replied, glancing at her with a smile.

“Do you mind if I open this now? I mean, read the letter?”

Jim looked at her again briefly, and shifted in his seat. “Um, no,” he replied, “That's fine.”

Pam began to gently open the envelope when Jim spoke again. “Do you mind if I put the radio on?” He asked.

“No, go right ahead,” she said, her eyes focused on her task. She wondered briefly if Jim was hoping that the music would prevent her from talking about the letter. She almost felt the need to reassure him that she had no intention of putting him on the spot, but a small piece of her kind of enjoyed his discomfort. After all, he was making her squirm having to wait each day for the next letter, wasn't he?

She smiled though she knew she was being somewhat petty, and promised to make it all up to him eventually as she unfolded the handwritten pages.

Dear Pam,

If my counting skills are correct, you are reading this on Christmas eve. Before I write anything else, let me just say how lucky I am to be spending Christmas with you. I can't help but think over the last handful of Christmases, when what I knew I wanted more than anything was to be with you, and instead had to pretend that everything was fine as it was. So apologies in advance if I seem to be hovering, or if you feel like I'm not giving you enough space. It will just be harder than usual to resist the urge to kiss you or hug you or hold you. I'll be reminding myself that this is finally real. That spending Christmas with the one person I love most in this world is happening, and it's not a dream. Thanks in advance for putting up with me.

Now where was I? May. We had been a couple for already a third of a year by the time May arrived, and while that's a mere 90 days, give or take, I felt as comfortable with you as if we'd been together for years and years. I think by this point I was finally starting to believe that the other shoe wasn't going to drop – that I wasn't going to wake up and found out that I'd been in a coma and it had actually all happened in my head. If I'm being honest, it was around this point that I started to see that maybe you were in fact NOT perfect. I mean, I knew you weren't – I always knew that – but I remember thinking that month that there were things about you that were probably going to drive me insane eventually.

No, don't ask for what it was you did or said that prompted the thought. I can't remember what exactly it was – no really, I don't remember! And I was probably in a bad mood anyway when I thought it. But somehow the idea that things about you could irritate me actually made me feel good. Because I am only too aware of all my faults, and sometimes I think they must be so obvious to you that it's a wonder you stay with me. So if you have faults, then maybe you'll be able to overlook mine.

I suppose in many ways May was your month to shine. I certainly don't take any credit for it, but over the those first few months we were together, you seemed to me to have more confidence. I'd never seen you like that before - standing up for yourself, putting yourself first. It wasn't any one big aggressive showdown or anything. Just you not being afraid to tell people what you wanted and expected. And it made me so very proud of you. I know change like that hasn't been easy for you. I guess I just want to remind you that I'll always be there to support you, and I'm not afraid of you changing more to be the person you really want to be. What you want for you, I want for you. Given how completely you have accepted who I am, it's the very least I can do.

One day that stands out as a perfect example of how far you have come is that day Michael took us all out to Lake Scranton. What is it with his need to drag us near water? I guess I just should be grateful it wasn't January. But from the very beginning, when he told you that you would have to take notes and sit on the sidelines the whole day, you stood up to him. You told him that it wasn't fair and you had as much right to enjoy the day as anyone. Of course, had you realized at the time that none of us were going to enjoy that day, maybe you would have decided to sit it out.

Pam, you were amazing that day. There is just no other way to put it. I still can't believe you wanted to do the coal walk. I can't believe that you DID the coal walk. I did however, like the look on Michael's face when you pointed out that he was supposed to be our leader and yet he couldn't do something you had the guts to do. As much as I do feel sorry for Michael at times, I didn't mind seeing him put in his place. He does (still!) sometimes take advantage of you, so it wasn't like he didn't have it coming.

I didn't even mind helping you take care of your feet after the walk. I do think it was a bit excessive when you had me carrying you from room to room three weeks after your skin had healed, but I'm sure you weren't taking advantage of my generous and giving nature. That wouldn't be like you at all. I'll just remember who to come to next time I need lotion applied to interesting locations.

When we found out that Michael was applying for a position in New York, I remember how we cringed over the idea of Dwight taking over the branch. Then David Wallace called me to come in and interview as well, and I have to say that having your support during all of that meant everything.

I know we've talked about it a lot since then – how taking that job could have changed our lives in so many ways, most of them changes people would see as good. But right from the beginning, all you worried about was whether this was a move that would make me happy in the long run.

Yeah, I admit I was a bit dazzled by the salary and the perks. A New York is a world away from Scranton. Had I focused only on those things, knowing that you said you'd come with me, I probably would have taken the job. I mean, as long as you're with me I'd go practically anywhere.

But your questions about what I really wanted from life – those are what made my final decision easy. And I know how irritated I seemed at the time, feeling like you were pressuring me into making a decision when all you really were trying to do was make me be aware that I had options. I'm lucky you didn't just give up on me right then and leave me to fend for myself.

So in the end, I stayed in Scranton. We stayed in Scranton. At least for now. And while I know I haven't made much progress figuring out quite what I'm going to do with the rest of my life (I'm still not completely sold on this whole growing up thing people keep telling me about) – I know you helped me avoid making a wrong decision.

I meant what I said that night I came back from New York. If I spend the rest of my life right here, I am okay with that. As long as you are here too. But just because corporate life at Dunder Mifflin is not what I want, it doesn't mean we give up on the idea of branching out. I think we owe it to ourselves to not be afraid to look at other places, and maybe someday live in other places. And I know I'd never have thought such a thing possible if I didn't have you. You make me feel like being a little more courageous in my dreams is not just wishful thinking. When you tell me you believe in me, then suddenly I find I'm believing in me, too. Where would I be without you?

We talked a lot that night about all the places you wanted to travel to – Paris, London, Venice, Greece. I even told you about the journey I had mapped out across Russia when I was sixteen and had discovered the works of Tolstoy. I'd never shared that with anyone before, because well – it was a bit geeky. And maybe now it wouldn't even be possible – but you still listened that night as if it were.

May taught me that no matter where you want to go, I want to be the one to be with you. Whether it's a temporary or permanent change – wherever you want to call home is where I'll call my home too.

Love,

Jim

Pam turn her head to look out the passenger's window, pretending to take in the view when in fact she was trying valiantly not to cry. What had she done in her life that was so good and so right to deserve someone like Jim? As she wrestled with the desire to make him pull over just so she could wrap her arms around him, she noticed the scenery looking familiar. They were in Harrisburg.

“It's the next exit,” she said, grateful for a neutral subject to talk about.

“I know,” he nodded. “I have been here before.”

“Right,” she nodded back. She stole a glance at his profile. She was definitely going to be kissing that face just as soon as it was possible to do so. She remembered her conversation with Parma and cleared her throat to speak again. “You do know that my father does like you, right?”

Jim didn't respond until he finished exiting the freeway and pulled to a stop at the red light. “I have no idea what your father thinks of me, to be honest. He's a tough person to read.”

“I know he is,” Pam agreed. “I spent most of my childhood having friends who were terrified of him for no good reason. He just gives off that vibe, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jim chuckled, “I do know.”

“Well, believe me. He likes you.”

“If you say so.”

“He likes you because he knows you make me happy.”

“And how does he know that?” Jim asked, eyebrow raised as he glanced over at her.

“Because I told him.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.”

Jim pulled up to the next stop sign and they looked at each other, then each smiled. “Hmmph,” was all he said as he made the next right which lead to the street Pam had been raised on.

When they pulled into the drive and turned off the car, Pam placed her hand on Jim's as it sat on stick shift knob. “Your problem is that you are too worried about being polite to him,” she told him.

“Yeah, I should try being rude,” he replied. He turned his palm up so he could interlace his fingers with hers. “That would make it so much better.”

“You know what I mean,” she chided gently. “My father says things to people just to get a reaction. Use some of that Halpert wit on him next time he does and see what happens.”

“I'll be spending the rest of the holiday waiting for you in the car?”

“Idiot,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. Then she leaned over and kissed him, sliding her free hand up around his collar to pull herself closer. They might have been satisfied to stay like that a bit longer but a loud bang startled them apart. They looked through the windshield and saw Pam's younger sister Emily leaning against the hood of the car.

“Hey, you guys get a room!” She yelled laughingly.

Pam grabbed Jim for another kiss before they finally got out of the car.

“Nice to see you too, Emily,” Pam said hugging her sister. “You can help us carry all this stuff in.”

Emily happily carried off several bags of treats and presents as Pam rummaged through her overnight bag. "Come here," she said to Jim as he pulled their suitcase out of the trunk.

"What?" He smiled as he stepped close to her.

Pam put her hand over her head and opened it to reveal a sprig of mistletoe.

"Nice," Jim murmurred before bestowing the expected kiss. "Pretty convenient to travel with your own mistletoe."

"Just wait to see where I hang it tonight," she said archly.

Emily's return scuttled Jim's original reply, though the look on his face made his reaction clear. "Wow," he said lowly. "Now that's the Christmas spirit."

The car was finally empty as Pam thought of something else. She hadn't seen a charm in the letter she'd just read. She pushed Jim and Emily to the house with the promise of following along in a minute.

“Something wrong?” Jim asked.

“No,” she said. “I just want to make sure I'm not leaving anything behind.”

“Which you could easily come back out and get if in fact you notice later that you had left something,” Jim replied, not quite believing her explanation.

“Go on,” she gave him a slight shove. “You know my mom is dying to see you. I'll be right in.”

“Okay,” he said, still giving her a confused look. “But hurry up.”

She nodded and opened the passenger door, running her hand over the seat. Nothing. She saw nothing on the floor mat, so she crouched down and tried to look under the seat. There sat a tiny scrap of red and white striped paper. She reached for it with sigh of relief, as the scrap became a solid mass in her hand. She shut the car door and leaned against it, anxious to see what charm she had received today.

An involuntary gasp escaped when she pulled the paper off to reveal a globe charm – complete with the ability to spin on its axis. She smiled as she closed her hand around it and headed into the house to greet family and then find a moment to put on the charm. It was a redundant gift to be sure, she thought, given that he'd already given her the world.

Tuesday, December 25 -

Pam smiled at her reflection in the mirror when she heard the soft tapping on her bedroom door. She knew exactly who it was, and even better, why they were there.

She opened the door slowly and leaned against it. Jim stood in the hallway in his flannel blue pajama pants and white t-shirt, his toothbrush still damp in his hand.

“Can I help you?” She asked. She tried to assume the air of innocence, but she couldn't stop grinning.

“Where did my stuff go?” He asked, his free hand pointing over his shoulder to the guest room down the hall.

Pam said nothing, but pulled the door back farther, revealing his suitcase sitting in the center of her bed.

“Pam....” Jim's voice was a mix of amusement and disapproval. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she replied, walking away from the door. Jim followed her in and shut the door quietly.

“Nothing,” Jim echoed. “Nothing but trying to get me in trouble.”

Pam laughed softly and sat on the edge of her bed, patting the open space next to her. “Come here,” she beckoned.

Jim put his suitcase on the floor and sat down next to her. “I'm not saying I wouldn't rather sleep here --”

“Jim,” Pam interrupted, “It's Christmas. You're not really going to leave me to wait up for Santa alone, are you?”

She looked up at him so comically wide-eyed that all he could do was put his arm around her and shake his head in defeat. “If your dad finds out --”

“He's not,” Pam dismissed. “Besides, this whole separate bedrooms thing is just for show. I know it, you know it, and my mother certainly knows it.”

Jim shot her a look that said he wasn't completely convinced. Pam sighed and stood up. “If you don't want to stay --”

Jim grabbed her hand and pulled her back. She stood between his legs as he ran his hands over her hips. “Right, like that's even the issue.”

“You're worrying about nothing, honestly,” Pam said. “We aren't teenagers sneaking behind our parents' backs.”

“I just don't want your dad to have reasons not to like me,” Jim shrugged.

“Jim, he DOES like you,” Pam replied, her hands framing his face for emphasis. “Besides,” she added, kissing his lips, “He's not the one who has to like you.”

“Then who does?” He smirked.

“Me, of course,” she laughed softly, pushing him back onto the soft comforter of her bed. She proceeded to make it quite clear how very much she did indeed like him.

The next time Pam thought to glance at the clock, it was nearly one o'clock in the morning. She snuggled up closer to Jim under the warm blankets.

“Hey,” she said softly, testing to see if he was awake.

“Yeah?” He replied groggily, clearly on the edge of sleep.

“It's after midnight,” she said in hushed excitement.

“Okay,” he replied, slightly more underwhelmed than she with this news. “Wasn't it almost midnight when we came upstairs to go to bed?”

“Maybe – but now it's officially Christmas!”

Jim stretched and turned on his side to face her. He knew sleep was going to have to be postponed for a little while longer. “So it is,” he said, putting his arm around her, “Merry Christmas, Pam.”

Merry Christmas, Jim,” Pam beamed back, kissing him. “So what do you think Santa Claus has brought you this year?”

Jim chuckled. “I have no idea, but I'll be surprised if he brings you anything.”

“Why?”

“Because you are clearly on the naughty list.”

Pam propped herself up on her elbow, “And how do you figure that?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Let's see - you invite men into your bedroom against your parents' wishes for a start.”

“Not MEN --” she said, emphasizing her point by poking him in the chest. “Man. One. You.”

“Still, I'm sure Santa doesn't consider that a trait of a nice girl.”

Pam pushed Jim onto his back, and then rested her head against her folded arms that she'd draped across his chest. “I guess the important question is whether or not you think that's a trait of a nice girl.”

Jim threaded the fingers of his left hand through the curls that were spilling over her shoulder. “You're alright,” he teased softly. “But I guess you'll just have to wait until morning to see.”

“Not necessarily,” she countered.

“Afraid not,” he shook his head. “I left all your gifts downstairs.”

“Not all of them,” she replied confidently.

Jim cocked his eyebrow at her, “Yeah, but didn't I just give that one to you?”

“Shut up!” She laughed. “That's not what I meant and you know it.”

“Then you've lost me. I don't know what you're talking about.”

Pam sat up and pointed over the side of the bed. “You're saying you don't remember tucking the envelope from Parma into your suitcase when you took it upstairs?”

“Ah, right. I did.”

“So can I open that?”

“It's supposed to be opened tomorrow.”

“You mean today. It's now Christmas.”

“I don't know,” Jim replied sceptically. “I really think you're stretching the definition of 'tomorrow', Pam.”

Pam directed her best pout at him, but it only made him smile more broadly. “Nice attempt,” he admitted. “A lesser man might have fallen for that one.”

“Hmmph,” Pam snorted. She hopped out of bed and threw her nightshirt over her head. “I need to use the bathroom.”

She wasn't angry or upset that he was making her wait for the new day's letter, she simply was being impatient. She thought about the possible excuses she could give him to let her look at it now: that there would be too many people in the house later for her to find a quiet place to open it; that it might get forgotten in the buzz of all the other activities; that she wanted to read it at a time she could concentrated solely on it. But she knew that no matter how she attempted to wheedle it out of him, he could be as stubborn as she was. She'd half-resigned herself to the fact she'd have to wait when she returned to the bedroom and found the envelope lying on her pillow.

She sat back down on the bed, eyeing Jim suspiciously. He was in the same position he was when she'd left, and he acted like he didn't even see the envelope perched less than six inches from his head. Pam reached out and picked up the package.

“I thought I wasn't going to get this until later,” she said, a hint of triumph in her voice.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jim shrugged. “But is it okay if I go back to sleep now?”

Pam held the envelope to her chest as she leaned over. “Pleasant dreams,” she whispered, then kissed him. Jim's arms wrapped around her, returning her affection to the point it seemed like going back to sleep was the last thing on his mind. But at last he pulled away, placed a quick peck on her nose, and then rolled onto his side away from her.

“You too,” he said.

Pam sat silently for several minutes, content to simply watch him. The blanket fell to just above his waist, and her eyes raked over his tousled hair, then followed the curve of his shoulder and back. It was entirely too tempting to set the letter down for later and curl up behind him, but in the end the contents of the envelope beckoned even louder.

Carefully opening the end flap, she peeked inside. It was slightly flatter than yesterday's had been, but as she carefully pulled out each item, saw it was just as delightful. She looked over at Jim, whose shallow breathing convinced her he was not asleep just yet. She smiled, but said nothing, instead examining each item carefully.

She put the sealed enveloped to the side. Reading the letter was what she wanted most, so she forced herself to hold it off until the end, as usual. She already knew she was going to miss these gifts when they stopped – and they had to stop at sometime, right? After all, her gifts had shadowed the twelve days of Christmas last year, and she knew that somehow this was a response to that, though she still couldn't figure out where it was heading. If it was heading anywhere at all. She tried to count back to the first day she received a package, then counted forward to see when the twelfth day fell. If she was right, the last day would be on New Year's Eve. She felt a little flutter of excitement at what that day might bring – especially given how well last year's night went. She pushed the daydream out of her mind so she could look through the present gift.

June, she thought. This stuff must be from June. Her assumption was confirmed as her eyes fell upon the brochure that caught her attention: Holly Hedge Estate. God, was that six months ago? She picked it up and flipped through the colorful, slick pages filled with pictures of a manor house and English gardens. It was were her cousin had gotten married last summer, and Pam shook her head at the memories. It had been a crazy weekend, to be sure.

There was a folded copy of the wedding order of service, and she knew it had been Jim's copy as she opened the cover and saw her name circled. She was one of the bridesmaids – why she was chosen Pam still didn't quite understand even now. Next to her circled name were a series of smiley faces, and along the edge of the page a series of stars and triangle doodles. She would have to ask him about the meaning of those later.

Other scrapes of wedding memorabilia included one of the table favors – a small tulle bag with a box of matches inscribed with the couple's names. The almonds that had also been included were gone, but pieces of the glittery confetti that had been sprinkled on the table was included.

She next picked up a folded sheet of yellow legal paper. As she opened it, tickets fell onto the bed, along with a large unopened bandage and pressed in a pocket of wax paper – Jim's boutonnière from the wedding. She lifted up a corner of the wax bag and brought it to her nose – the simple trio of stephanotis blossoms still smelled wonderful.

The yellow paper was simply a note to Jim from Brian, one of the documentary's camera crew that Jim had gotten closest to.

Hey Jim -

Don't do anything too interesting while we're gone. See you in a few months (funding willing!!)

Brian

She gathered up the mementos carefully and slid them back into the large envelope. She rested it against her pillow, and crossing her legs to get more comfortable, she opened the letter.

Dear Pam,

Merry Christmas!

It seems more than a little strange to be writing this weeks before the actual date, but it does serve as a good reminder for me to get moving on finishing shopping for your gifts. I hope you'll like them.

When I started to think about what to write about June, I realized that while it wasn't a very active month, the things we did do were certainly memorable – both good and bad. I think I'll try and keep it chronological.

First off, we celebrated the end of another filming cycle. I swear when they leave in June it's like being back in school again – the feeling of freedom is something I know you feel too. I mean, they're basically a good group of people – but come on, how much longer are they going to be filming? Whenever I ask Brian about what's going on with the final product – if it's going to be a movie or a series or what – he's always so vague. I know he's not supposed to talk about it, but I'm starting to suspect that all this footage is going to end up in the back of a van somewhere, never to see the light of day. Sometimes I'm not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, that would be such a waste of time and effort, but on the other – in my nightmares we become reality show celebrities. I can only hope that Michael and Dwight would stand out so completely that we could fade into the background.

Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that it was nice to come into work knowing that Steve or Nick weren't lurking to try and catch us doing anything. I mean, you think they'd give us a little bit of a break – I think we've already let them in on our personal lives way more than I want to. So that day I suggested lunch in the stairwell and we ended up eating the food at our desks afterward? I totally think that should become a regular June event. (Okay, and July, and August...)

One thing I will be very glad not to repeat is that weekend we spent at your cousin's wedding. Not that there weren't some high points – and I'll be happy to refresh your memory of those in a minute – but overall it was, well – I'll just call it an adventure. It was, after all, your family.

I remember when you first told me about being in this wedding – wasn't it like months before it actually took place? I thought a weekend at an expensive country mansion could be a fun getaway. But as your cousin seemed to add on to the list of things you needed to do as bridesmaid, I started to worry that I might not even see you when we were there!

And God, what a wedding it was. When we arrived at the estate, it was so old-fashioned and sedate I expected -- well, I don't know what I expected. But I didn't expect so much hot pink! I'm pretty sure not even Kelly would have been so over the top. But your cousin certainly knew what she wanted, didn't she? I never understood the term “Bridezilla” until that weekend. I have to give you credit – between her complaining that she wasn't expecting me to actually stay with you in the guest room to the insistence you wear your hair in the most unattractive style possible – you were the epitome of grace under pressure. I was so proud of you.

And unflattering hair style notwithstanding – you were gorgeous. I mean, you know I always think you're beautiful, but that gold dress? It definitely played to your assets, if you know what I mean (and I'm pretty sure you do). I am positive she made you wear your hair pulled back so severely because she knew what a mistake she'd made having you on display in the wedding party. I mean, isn't the bride the one who's suppose to shine? I don't care if she was holding about twenty pounds of bright pink flowers – I couldn't keep my eyes off you. I felt like telling everyone around me - “See that girl? She's with me.”

Speaking of that, I will admit that you were right. I know I was anxious about going to this wedding. I worried about the idea that I would be meeting so many members of your family that I hadn't met yet – people who really only knew that you used to be engaged to Roy, and might wonder who the hell I was. I know you did your best to have me not worry about it, but how could I not? At least it turned out well – over the course of the night at least four people confided in me that they were glad I wasn't Roy. The liberal flow of alcohol I'm sure is what inspired them to confess these things to me, but hey – I'll take it.

Speaking of alcohol, I have a confession to make. I'm afraid I have to take some of the blame for your fall when we were climbing the stairs to our room in the guest cottage. No, I didn't push you! You fell of your own volition – that and all the margaritas you had. But perhaps you wouldn't have had quite so much to drink if I hadn't consciously been making sure your glass was kept filled.

Why? I hear you wondering – Why was I purposely trying to get you drunk? Well, it's really your own fault. That first drink you had before the ceremony – the one you said you already earned with the hoops the bride was putting you through – it was just strong enough that by the time the wedding started I could see a twinkle in your eye that I hadn't seen since the last time you were truly drunk around me. Remember that Dundies ceremony? I sure do. And I have to admit that a drunk Pam is an adorable Pam. Plus I figured if I got a kiss the last time you were that drunk – who knew what I'd get this time?

So yeah, I admit. I took advantage of you. I wish I could say I was sorry. Does it make me a bad person? But you had so much fun – we had so much fun. You were radiant and confident and despite Bridezilla we laughed all night. It was a good night. Well, except for that trip up the steps. But I blame those damn shoes she had you wearing. And the fact our room had a first aid kit makes me wonder if you weren't the first person to graze their knees on the stonework. And you weren't so drunk that you got sick or didn't remember (most!) of the evening. Even so, if you need to get back at me for it, feel free to take advantage of me at your earliest convenience. I'll completely understand.

The rest of June was pretty ordinary – by which I mean it was great. I never realized what a homebody I was until it was you I was coming home to/with. I know I agreed we needed to save money, and that's why we cut back on dinners out and other entertainment, but really I didn't care. All I cared about was I was with you. And so very glad you weren't sick of me yet.

Though I will always remember that night at the drive-in fondly. You were so cute, complaining that we'd already seen the second feature. I can't believe you seriously thought we were going there to watch the movies. Or maybe that was all just an act? I seem to remember you being the one who turned off the radio halfway through Fantastic Four – and it wasn't THAT bad for a comic book movie.

And with that thought, I will end this here. I hope you are enjoying reading this as much as I've enjoyed remembering and writing this all down. I love being with you, Pam. It's really as simple as that.

Love,

Jim

Pam slowly folded the letter back up, the wrapped charm in her hand. That weekend in Bucks County as a bridesmaid for her cousin Corinne had been an adventure. Corrine was someone who always knew what she wanted and usually got it because nobody wanted to hear her yell. Pam figured the only reason she was asked to be in the wedding party was that one of Corinne's friends had backed out, and the idea that the bridal party would be uneven was unacceptable. Still, despite some tension it had been a weekend at a lovely country estate with Jim, some really, really good food, and a chance to show him off to her family.

She stuck the letter into the big envelope with the trinkets and unwrapped the charm. She laughed out loud at what she found, then covered her mouth as she remembered the rest of the house was sleeping. In her hand was a tiny silver margarita glass, a yellowy-green gemstone sparkling like the drink he claimed to have pushed on her that night. What he didn't know – and she thought he might never know – was that she would have gotten them for herself anyway.

Pam stretched her legs, got off the bed and put the envelope on the dresser. She placed the charm in the small jewelry bowl with her watch and necklace, intending to change the charm in a few hours when Christmas would officially descend on the house. She flipped off the light and crawled under the covers, not satisfied until she was spooned up behind Jim, her arm held snugly across his chest. She kissed his shoulder several times, but this time she knew he really was asleep.

“I love you,” she whispered into his skin as she closed her eyes and joined him in slumber.

Wednesday, December 26 -

The flurries were already thick in the air by the time Pam and Jim got on the road to head back to Scranton.

“I'm sorry I let Stephen keep talking me into game after game of Pokemon Yahtzee,” Pam said guiltily as she watched the wipers scrape the snow from their view. “I know you wanted to leave before lunchtime.”

Jim glanced over at her, an indulgent smile forming. “Not a problem, Beesly. Really. I know how you get when you aren't allowed to keep playing until you win.”

“That's not true,” she protested with a laugh. “I did win a few times.”

“I believe I was sitting right next to you when you said – and I'd use air quotes if I thought it would be wise to take my hands of the steering wheel – 'Nobody leaves until I get my chance to come back.'” He peered over at her. “Sound familiar?”

Pam rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. I might have said something like that.”

Jim briefly patted her thigh. “I'm teasing. You know I don't care. How often do we get to see your nephews? I was having fun too.” He noticed her fingering the edges of the multi-colored striped scarf he'd given to her yesterday. “I'm glad I got you that scarf. I think it suits you.”

Pam smiled up at him. “I think it does, too. I really love it. Thanks again.”

He smirked. “And now I don't have to hunt for my blue one every cold morning.”

“Maybe,” she replied thoughtfully, “I got attached to that scarf more because it was yours than because I was that crazy about it.”

“Ah,” he nodded. He thought for a moment before continuing. “So you're saying that I should wear your new scarf for a while and then you could steal it from me.”

“Not necessary,” she said simply. “Besides, I don't think I shall ever take it off.”

Jim shook his head sceptically. “Really?”

“Really,” she nodded.

“Not ever?”

“Nope.”

“Not even for a shower?”

She made a dismissive sound at him. “You know what I mean.”

“In bed?”

Pam didn't miss a beat. “Well, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeated dryly, trying not to smile. He reached back over and ran the edge of the scarf through his fingers. “Could be kind of itchy though,” he added. “I'm pretty sure it's wool.”

“Where's your sense of adventure?” She teased. “It's all about indulging the senses.”

“I'm not sure the urge to scratch is one of my particular favorites at a time like that.”

Pam giggled.

“What?” Jim asked, grinning. “It's not!”

“Hmm,” was all she replied. “We'll see.”

They had been driving for less than thirty minutes when it became clear that the weather was getting worse.

“Do you think we should go back to my mom's?” Pam asked.

Jim pulled off I-81 and into a gas station at the exit to East Hanover as he thought about it. He glanced up at the sky as he filled the tank, as if somehow it would tell him what to do.

“They said the snow was supposed to stay south of Hazelton, and the heavier stuff was headed for Philly,” he said as he climbed back in the car. “I think we'll be okay.”

“Okay,” Pam replied.

“Unless you want to go back,” he added.

Pam shook her head. “No, not really. I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

“I thought we were sleeping in your bed at your mom's.”

“No, I mean my newer, bigger, softer bed in Scranton. I'm pretty sure the bed at my mom's is the same mattress I've had since seventh grade.”

“Wow – that old?” He teased.

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Jim leaned over and kissed her before pulling out of the station. “I do. And I'll be happy to go back to our regular bed, too.”

Despite their intentions to make it home, it appeared the storm had other ideas. As the wind picked up and the snow continued to fall, the conversation in the car dwindled. Eventually Jim even switched off his iPod so he could focus on the road.

“It's beautiful,” Pam said softly, as the whiteness blanketed everything.

“Yeah,” Jim mumbled, “and slippery.”

Pam wasn't worried, but she could see Jim gripping the steering wheel tightly, and watched as the muscle in his jaw tensed and untensed repeatedly. She resisted the urge to lean over and rub his shoulder in support. She just hoped he didn't end up with a huge migraine from the stress.

“Do you want to stop for a bit?” She suggested.

“No,” he replied. “We've got to meet my family for Christmas dinner tonight. It's got to let up soon.”

Jim wasn't naturally a fast driver to begin with, but the weather definitely tempered his usual conservatism even further. Still, as they continued along I-81, they found themselves traveling at slower and slower speeds. They were on the road for nearly another hour, barely covering thirty miles when Pam let out a big sigh.

“You okay?” Jim asked, his eyes not leaving the road. The snow was covering the road at such a rate that there was really only one lane carved through the snow.

“This is getting worse instead of better,” she said. “Do you want me to drive for a bit?”

“No, I'm fine,” Jim replied, looking to Pam like he was anything but. “Maybe we should stop somewhere. Take a break, you know?”

Pam nodded, eager for the chance for Jim to relax a bit. “Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”

“But where? I know nothing about this part of Pennsylvania.”

Pam pulled the map out of the glove compartment and tried to remember where she had typically made stops along the journey from her place to her parents. Most of the time she never even bothered to stop. Now the blowing snow was making the landscape unfamiliar, and the map itself did nothing to refresh her memory.

“Do you remember what exit we last passed?” She asked him.

“I think it was exit 104,” he replied. “Or something around there.”

Pam caught sight of a green sign approaching. “Frackville is twenty-one miles from here,” she read.

“Frackville?”

“That's what it said,” she laughed.

“It sounds like they had to sanitize their original town name,” Jim joked.

“Or it's populated by Battlestar Galactica fans,” Pam suggested.

“Yikes, Pam,” Jim exclaimed, the hint of a smile returning finally. “Do I even want to know how you'd know that?”

“I spent a lot of nights at Battlestar Galactica marathons when you were away,” she replied.

“You did not.”

“And how would you know?”

“True,” Jim admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But I really need to believe that you didn't.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he paused, “I don't know how I feel about the idea that you're more compatible with Dwight than with me.”

“Doesn't matter,” she replied blithely. “Dwight and I wouldn't work out anyway – he's too much of a blanket hog.”

Jim make a choking sound. “Don't,” he said, glancing at her for the briefest of moments, “Don't even joke like that. Ever.”

Pam let out a laugh.

“I'm serious!” He continued. “That's just – uh --” he shivered as if cold. “That's so so wrong on so many levels.”

Pam continued to laugh.

“Take it back.”

“Take what back?”

“That whole idea that you know Dwight steals the blankets.”

“It bothers you that much?”

“Pam!”

She laughed again. “You know I'm not serious, you dork.”

“Still – that's not something to joke about.”

“Okay, of course I'm joking. But he did put his arm around me once,” she mused, watching for his reaction.

Jim grimaced. “Did he touch skin or just your clothing?”

Pam grinned. “Does it matter?”

“I need to know if you're tainted now or not.”

Pam shook her head in giddy disbelief. “We need to pull over soon. The stress of driving in this is clearly getting to you.”

A few minutes of silence passed, then Jim spoke again. “Why did Dwight put his arm around you?”

She should have known he would come back to that. He never did miss much. She thought back to the incident in question, and wondered if it was worth opening up old wounds. She decided it was probably a story worth telling.

“He found me crying in the stairwell, and felt sorry for me, I guess.” She waited for the next inevitable question.

“When was this?”

Pam twisted the end of her scarf around her fingers. “The day you came back to Scranton.”

Jim frowned. “Why? What happened?”

Pam made a soft snorting sound as she kept her gaze on the scarf. “You came back with Karen.”

“Ah,” he said softly. “But --”

“I saw her scratch your back when we were out in the parking lot, and I put two and two together,” she explained. “And it hit me that I was too late.”

“I'm sorry,” Jim said simply.

“Not your fault,” she shook her head. “Besides,” she added, taking a deep breath and looking over at him, “that's ancient history.” She smiled. “I've got you now.”

Jim couldn't help but smile back at her. “That you do,” he agreed.

By the time they reached Frackville, there was well over eight inches on the ground, and the short skid they did as they turned off the exit convinced both of them that stopping was the right idea.

As they drove toward the center of town, they were practically the only ones on the road, and it was hard to tell which businesses were opened and which were closed.

“Oh my God,” Pam exclaimed. “What in the hell is that?”

Jim looked in the direction she was pointing. “Wow.”

“Let's stop there,” Pam suggested.

“Are you serious?”

“Why not?” She grinned.

Jim shook his head and pulled into the parking lot of a painted blue building proclaiming to be Granny's Motel and Restaurant. He parked the car in a space about fifty feet from the object of their astonishment. Standing in front of the building was an enormous statue of a pioneer woman, painted orange and gold, holding a pie in her hands, while a child, holding onto a headless doll, clung to her skirt.

“Wow,” Jim said again.

“That is the ugliest thing I've ever seen,” Pam said.

“It's not just ugly, it's scary,” he added. “Is that supposed to be a child or a very short man?”

“He looks a bit like those ventriloquist dolls that get possessed by Satan and then make their owner go out and kill people.”

“He does,” Jim agreed. “He also looks a lot like Kevin Spacey.”

“I think we've just figured out Kevin's next movie role.”

Jim laughed and leaned his head back against the headrest. “Do you seriously want to go in there?”

Pam stared at the building for a moment. “I can see people are in there, and there are a few cars here. They must be open.”

“Yeah, but if this is on the outside – what must be inside?”

Pam grabbed his hand. “Where's your sense of adventure, Jim?” She smiled mischievously. “They have a motel here too, you know.”

“Now that's too creepy,” he replied. He opened up his car door and the wind blew in fiercely. “But I think my need for coffee is going to win out.”

By the time Pam got out of the car, Jim was at her side, holding her arm as they trudged toward the blue building in snow that was so deep it was spilling over the tops of Pam's boots. They both looked up at immense figure of the woman and her man-child as they passed it, then gave each other the same look of disbelief. Pam suddenly stopped in her tracks, pulling on Jim's arm to do the same.

“What's the matter?” He asked, the wind blowing his hair into even more of a tangled mess than usual.

Pam pulled him closer so she could put her arms around him. “Nothing,” she smiled. “I just love you.” She stood up on tiptoes to give him a kiss, and he shook his head as she pulled back.

“You couldn't wait until we got out of the blizzard?”

“Nope,” she grinned, refusing to let go of him.

He glanced up again at the statue. “I'm sure Grandma Moses here wouldn't approve.”

“Too bad,” she said, pulling him down for another kiss. “Maybe that's why she looks that way.”

Jim put his arm around her as he started to move towards the door again. “Now that's just mean, Pam,” he chastised. “She can't help the way she is.”

They were still both grinning by the time they reached the shelter of the front door, a wall and an awning blocking most of the wind and falling snow. Jim leaned against the wall to catch his breath and Pam snuggled closer, not caring in the slightest that his wool coat was damp and scratchy against her cheek.

“What time is it?” Jim asked.

“I think it's around four.”

“Shit, I should have called them an hour ago.”

Pam looked up, confused. “Who?”

“My parents,” he said, frowning as he struggled to take his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans. “There's no way we are going to make it up there in time.”

“I'm sure they'll understand.”

Jim let go of her as he opened up his phone. “Yeah, I know. But I know my dad's going to think it was rude to wait until now to call.” He dialed their number and jerked his head toward the restaurant's doors. “Why don't you go wait for me inside where it's warm?”

Pam glanced at the door and back at Jim. “You're kidding right? There's no way I'm going in there alone.” She put her mittened hand on his arm supportively. “Just go ahead and call them - I'll wait.”

Jim nodded, letting out a deep breath as he put his phone to his ear. The wind was still letting loose with the occasional howl, and at times he had to double over slightly and cover his other ear to hear. Pam couldn't make out anything being said, but the crease between Jim's brow only continued to deepen as the conversation went on. She knew sometimes his dad was a bit hard on Jim, and she mirrored his frown as she wished for once his dad was a bit more laid back like hers. When Jim finally hung up the phone, he simply rolled his eyes and gave her a lopsided smirk. He put his hand on her lower back, and walked her into the restaurant.

The inside of Granny's Restaurant was striking enough to pull Jim out of his funk, at least for the moment. It was indeed like walking into someone's grandmother's house – full of old wood and lace doilies and patterned wallpaper – but it also had kitschy art work that clashed badly with the decor. Warhol certainly never intended his Marilyn Monroe series to end up on the walls of a place like this. He raised his eyebrows alarmingly at Pam as they were lead to their table, knowing he was going to be able to hold this over her head for quite some time to come.

There was a single waitress-slash-hostess, and two other tables occupied, both with old men who dined alone with their newspapers. Pam wondered why they braved the storm to come here. Coffee was quickly poured, and she turned her attention back to Jim, who seemed to be focusing all his attention on stirring the sugar into his coffee.

“Hey,” Pam said softly.

Jim looked up. “Hey,” he replied. He sounded tired.

“So what did they say?”

“I don't think he believed me at first,” he mused, taking a tentative sip of his hot drink.

“Why not?”

“Apparently Scranton is snowflake free.”

Pam groaned. “Well he gets the Weather Channel, doesn't he?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim replied. “He knew we'd had snow down here. He was just giving me a hard time.”

“Now there's a shock,” Pam said dryly.

“He said he thinks that if we can get to Hazelton we'll be fine.”

“So he still expects us?”

“No, he said we'd still not be in time for dinner, so we'll just go over tomorrow.”

Pam reached across the small table and covered his hand with hers. “That's okay, you know,” she said.

Jim nodded. “Oh, I know. It's just that he said Jonathan might have to leave tomorrow morning, and I was hoping we'd get to see him.”

“I'm sure he'll stay if it's at all possible,” she said encouragingly. “And if we miss him maybe we can go down to his place next weekend.”

He nodded again, but said nothing.

“Jim,” Pam squeezed his hand until he looked at her. “Relax. It's not like this is your fault.”

“I know.”

“And,” she added, lacing her fingers through his, “it's Christmas. It's Christmas and we're together and that's all that matters to me.”

He squeezed her hand back and finally smiled slightly. “You're right,” he acquiesced.

“Of course I am,” she grinned. "Like always."

Jim chuckled, kissing her hand briefly as the waitress approached. “I wouldn't go that far,” he replied.

The waitress took their orders, and the mood at their table finally lightened. As they chatted about nothing in particular, the soup and fresh warm bread raised both their spirits. They were further buoyed by the fact that by the time they left Granny's Restaurant, the blizzard had become nothing more than a light flurry in the air.

The roads were still snow-covered and slippery, but the further north they drove the better the conditions became. Like Jim's father had said, but the time they reached Hazelton the stress of the dangerous road conditions was like a distant memory.

By the time Jim pulled his car into the driveway of the house they were renting, Pam was fast asleep. It wasn't very late – not barely past eight – but the role of simply being a passenger for the whole trip had lulled her to sleep not long after Hazelton. He turned the engine off and turned to look at her, unwilling for the moment to disturb her. He contemplated just carrying her into the house, or at least taking in all their luggage before bothering her, but the stillness of the car seemed to set off some internal alarm clock and soon she was rubbing her eyes and stretching.

“Where are we?” She asked before she even opened her eyes.

“Home,” he replied simply.

“Oh thank God,” she sighed, smiling slightly. She remained seated in the car, willing herself to wake up more fully as Jim started to bring in the bags and presents. When she eventually got out, she surveyed with surprise that Jim's dad had been right: it was certainly cold, but there wasn't an inch of snow on the ground. To be honest, Pam felt a bit disappointed. Playing out in the snow with Jim was always lots of fun. So was the “going back in to get warm” part. As she stepped into the house she hoped the snow would soon follow.

Jim pointed to the coffee table as she was taking off her coat. “That was left in the door for you.”

She walked over and picked up the envelope with delighted anticipation. She thought perhaps it was a Christmas gift until she recognized the handwriting on the attached note:

“Sorry I missed you. See you tomorrow. Love, P.”

Pam laughed as she sunk down on the couch with her new package. “With all of today's adventures I had forgotten I hadn't gotten a letter yet!”

Jim was leaning against the wall near the hallway, watching her with a bemused expression on his face. “Well,” he said as he cleared his throat. “I need a shower.”

Pam had succeeded in opening the large envelope and nodded her acknowledgment as she started to look inside.

“You want to join me?” Jim suggested.

She glanced up only briefly, too drawn into what she might find in the package. “Uh yeah, in a minute. I want to look at this first.”

He shook his head, both amused and chagrined by her complete lack of interest in him at the moment, and wandered toward their bedroom to get undressed.

It was anything but a lack of interest on Pam's part that kept her seated in the living room. In fact she was completely interested in Jim – in the form of what he had to say about the experiences they'd had in July. Though they clearly were much better at talking about things they once would have shied away from, Pam was constantly astounded by the level of candor and sincerity these letters contained. And she remembered what a month of upheaval July had been.

There was little in the envelope this time beyond the sealed letter. There were five grease-marked receipts for Calabria Pizza – all stamped “take-out”, an empty sparkler box, a stars and stripes paper napkin with the words 'World Champion' written in Pam's own neat lettering, and a folded sheet of Dunder Mifflin's own twenty-pound, recycled pastel color paper – in goldenrod. She shook her head slightly as she unfolded it, the homemade application she'd given him bringing back more memories. She wasn't surprised he'd kept it, but she had to admit she didn't expect all the anxiety of that time to still feel so fresh. She took a deep breath, slid the items back in the manila envelope, and opened the letter.

Dear Pam,

Wow – half a year in letter form! I hope you've been holding on to these so when we're old we can save our memory for things like where we left our house keys and how the microwave/DVD/other-futuristic-technology works.

You are saving these, aren't you?

So, July. Welcome back to it! Now that was a month, wouldn't you say? Who knew our first real fight – complete with shouting, door slamming, and that unbearable wall of silence – would have been over what was supposed to be a good idea? I guess we still had a lot to learn about each other...

I'm not even quite sure how to start talking about that. Maybe I should remind you that the beginning of the month went more than well enough. The Halpert family reunion over the weekend near the Fourth was a lot of fun, which I have to admit was a first for me. Yes, I love my family, but usually I'm stuck keeping the older aunts company, or herding the kids into volleyball games so they'll leave their parents alone. I guess maybe this time was the first time I got treated like one of the adults – and I'm nearly thirty! And that, I am sure, was due to the beautiful and amazing woman I had by my side for the whole thing. Really, you should have come – she was quite impressive.

(I'm kidding!! Sheesh....)

You already knew my mother liked you, which was why I found it so funny that you were nervous about attending. I mean, who cares what anyone else would have thought if you've already got the ace in the hole? My mother is nothing if not the most loyal of defenders, so your acceptance from the rest of my family was already predetermined. (Or else!) But you? You would have won them over without assistance from anyone anyway. I swear I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I don't think I'd ever seen Great-Aunt Vi smile – ever! But when you raved about her daughter's deviled egg salad, the woman practically beamed at you. Did I mention how she told my mother that it was nice to know there were still “considerate young people” with manners? I'm pretty sure she was talking specifically about you. (You know she wasn't talking about my cousins from Albany!)

Oh, and you were a hell of a bocce player. You are definitely a permanent member of my team at all other events.

So yeah, the month was off to a fantastic start. And I couldn't see how that could possibly change. Even work was less painful than usual, with Michael taking every Friday off and Angela taking “family time” because one of her cats was sick. A never realized how pleasant a week without Angela in the office could be. I don't think Kevin ever had such a good time at work, either. Think she ever figured out what happened to that cat-shaped pencil holder she had?

But – well, there's really no good way dive into what was obviously the biggest thing to happen that month, so maybe I should start by saying that I'm sorry. Still sorry, actually, since I know we spent a lot of time on apologies back then. All I thought I was doing was suggesting the obvious – your lease had run out at the end of June, and you knew you didn't want to stay there forever, so you switched to a month-by month lease. Then you discovered that this raised your rent twenty more dollars a month on top of a twenty dollar initial rise. So July's rent cost you forty dollars more than June did, and you were spending less and less time there. It just made sense to me for us to live together.

I admit that it never occurred to me that you might NOT want to move in with me. We spent so much time together (and thankfully still do!), and we liked it that way, so when I told you that night that I'd be happy to help you move your stuff in as soon as you wanted me to, it was more than a little stinging to have you turn down my offer so quickly. I really thought you were joking, Pam – at least until you left that night in tears. Then I had no idea what to think.

I know this is sounding rambling – I guess I still have a hard time thinking about it all. Maybe I should just stop with the storytelling – you know what happened – and tell you more on why I was so angry. Basically – well, I guess it should come as no surprise that it all came back to Roy. Looking back now, I can better understand your hesitation to move in with someone, but if I'm being honest, it still hurts a bit. I mean, I know you felt moving in with a Roy was one factor that lead to that relationship's stagnation – but I wasn't Roy! I never was! And not wanting to move in with me because of your past experience with someone else felt completely unfair. Especially since I was painfully aware of how hard I was trying NOT to be Roy.

But what was worse than your refusal to move in? Worse than the argument of that night? How we went a whole week without talking. It was like the longest week of my life. And I was terrified. I felt worse than I did when I moved to Stamford, because now I knew what I was missing. And I know I should have stepped up and tried to talk to you about things, but I was torn between my frustration that Roy still was able to overshadow me, and the fear I'd say the wrong thing and lose you for good.

So I just stepped back and waited for you, which wasn't exactly fair to you either. I don't know how to explain it, but when it comes to you there doesn't seem to be a middle ground for me. I trust you with everything, Pam. I have for such a long time now. But my instinct when there is trouble between us is to clam up – to close myself off – to not be the one willing to try again. We both know what experience I've had with that. You think I would have recognized the signs. I'd like to think that if we ever have such a disagreement like that again I won't do that. Or if I do, you'll not be afraid to call me on it.

You've always been braver than me. Always. And you proved it again by being the one to make the first move, five days after our fight. And being the jerk I can be, I know I brushed you off at first. That was just my pride talking. You should know that he and I no longer keep in touch when it comes to you. You win every time now – and I don't mind telling you that.

The day after your first attempt was Friday, and you asked me to go out to lunch with you. I should have said yes, I know that, but I was still afraid. I had the idea that if you wanted to go somewhere public, it was because you wanted to break up with me. You knew I wouldn't make a scene if you told me in a public place. So, yeah – I really did have the business appointment anyway – but it wasn't the real reason I said no. You know, looking back I don't think I've ever been so paranoid. I am SO lucky you put up with me.

Did I ever tell you how many sales I made that week we weren't speaking to each other? None. Not one. Half the time I sat with the phone to my ear the line was dead. Or I was calling the weather number. I couldn't focus on anything, except to make myself look anywhere but in your direction. Of course every time your back was to me, all I could do was stare at you. Stare at you and feel sorry for myself. Yeah, I do that pathetic loser thing pretty well by now.

And the evenings? Even worse. The first two nights I didn't even eat. Drank though – drank plenty. Then after my second day in a row waking up with the headache from hell, I started picking up pizza after work every night. Didn't slow the drinking down much, though.

When you showed up at my door on Saturday morning, I was sure I was either still drunk or dreaming. We stared at each other for what seemed like years, and it was then I knew that you were as miserable as I was, and that I was a huge jackass for letting things go on like that for so long. I was about to say something – I don't remember exactly what, but probably something along the lines of “I'm sorry/I love you/Please don't leave me” but then you handed me a piece of paper, said “you look like hell” and walked away. It took a good minute or so to focus enough to read the what you'd given me.

My question is: How did you get to be so awesome? I mean really – your “rental application” to move into my place was so classic you. I barely glanced at it when it hit me what it was – my chance to make things right again. I have to say, I don't think I've ever had a better time approving an application.

That's not to say we haven't had our adjustment issues. I still wish we would have kept my couch, for starters. But such little things compared to how right it feels to come home with you at night, to look up on a Sunday afternoon and watch you chewing your nails over the crossword in the paper, to see your stuff and my stuff all mixed up together in the mess we both call home. I really wouldn't want it any other way. So thanks for not giving up on me, and taking a chance you weren't sure you wanted to make. I hope it's been worth it.

Love,

Jim

Pam folded up the letter carefully, then wiped tears out of the corners of both eyes. He was so willing to take the blame for that fight, when she knew that she was just as guilty, if not more. She had overreacted to his offer and then felt too embarrassed to address the issue until the days of being without him became unbearable. She knew Jim could never be anything like Roy, and truth be told, that was only part of her hesitation at the time. The other, more stubborn part was that she had grown to love the autonomy of having her own place, even if she spent almost no time there. The fact was she COULD if she needed to. Moving in with Jim was removing that net, and even if it was a net she knew deep down she didn't need, it was scary to do without it. It was only through being reminded of what life was truly like without him did she know what she wanted more.

She stuck the letter back in its envelope, exchanging it for the small wrapped sure-to-be charm. It was: a tiny set of silver house keys. She lifted her head and could still hear the sound of the shower running. She smiled and stood up, carefully placing the package back on the coffee table. If she hurried she might still catch Jim in the shower.

Thursday, December 27 -

Pam thought the day couldn't possibly go any slower. The day after Christmas (or in this case, the day after the day after Christmas) was always a work day that seemed like a gigantic waste of everyone's time. Half of the office was absent, and the other half clearly wished they were elsewhere. She could count the number of times the phone rang with actual business-related calls on one hand. Mostly Pam answered the phone and transferred a friend or family member, wondering for the umpteenth time why they just couldn't dial the number directly.

It didn't help that she was tired. Although she and Jim had returned home at a good time the previous night, they had spent the following hours doing anything but sleeping. It was as if the memory of their fight from months ago wouldn't quite leave the back of her mind, and she was trying her best to excise it.

She glanced up to see what Jim was doing and caught him yawning behind his hand. He smirked when he realized she was looking at him. He was exhausted as well, but neither was really complaining. Pam just wanted the work day to end as soon as possible.

Almost immediately after their eye contact, Jim stood up and sauntered over to her desk. If Angela has been in that day, she'd have marked it as the fourteenth visit of the day.

“So....” Jim said slowly, sliding his forearms forward across the counter to touch Pam. The fingers on his right hand lightly touched her cheek, then clasped the hand she had placed over his.

“So...” Pam sighed.

“Doing okay?”

Pam rolled her eyes a bit. “Same as the last time you asked.” She gave him a small smile to soften the edge to her voice.

“Yeah, me too,” he nodded. He released her hand and stood up a bit as Kevin walked passed, waving as he left for the day.

Jim glanced at his watch. “Why is Kevin leaving at four?”

Pam shrugged. “Can you blame him?”

“Not at all.”

“Hey,” Pam said, an idea forming.

“What?”

“You're Assistant Regional Manager – why can't we leave now too?”

“I think that's an abuse of power,” he said with a look of mock disapproval.

Pam was unfazed. “So?”

He drummed his fingers on the counter, doing his best not to break into a smile. He shook his head. “I still have some stuff to finish.”

“Liar.”

Jim's brow rose in surprise. “Why would I lie?”

Pam narrowed her eyes, peering at him suspiciously. “I'm not sure, but you are. You haven't done anything all day.”

“Which is why I still have some stuff to finish.”

Pam sighed dramatically and stood up. “Fine,” she said, “I see where your priorities are.”

Jim chuckled as he watched her put the phone to voice mail and step out from behind her desk. “Where are you going?”

“To take a nap in the ladies room for an hour,” she said as she walked away. She could still hear Jim's laughter as the kitchen door shut behind her.

Pam shifted position on the couch for the third time in ten minutes. She couldn't get comfortable because she was bored. She thought about glancing through the magazines but most of them she'd taken to her desk at one point or another, so there wasn't anything she hadn't read already. She knew she would never have taken a nap, but at the time it seemed like the perfect retort to Jim's refusal to leave early.

Truth be told she wanted to go back out front so she could be with him. Or send him flirty messages and emails. Spend the last half hour looking at him in the very least. But Pam knew Jim was just waiting for her to give in and come back, and heaven help her if sometimes the need to best him overtook her common sense, or in the very least what she really wanted. So she sighed and shifted position on the couch again, and contemplating switching over to the chair.

Pam lasted another ten minutes before giving up. She decided she'd have some tea in the kitchen instead, and maybe if she was sneaky Jim wouldn't see her. But when she peered out the window Jim wasn't at his desk. She glanced into the break room, but he wasn't there either. Curious but thirsty, she grabbed a mug and made her tea. He still wasn't at his desk when she discarded the tea bag in the trash, so she sat down at the small table and sipped the hot liquid, half-expecting him to appear at any minute.

Pam found it hard to stay in her seat as she continued to wonder where Jim was. She knew he didn't have any appointments, and Michael had left shortly after lunchtime so he wasn't trapped in his office with him. She thought he must be in the conference room for some reason, and forgetting her plan to stay away for the whole hour, picked up her cup to go join him. She was more than a little startled to find he wasn't there either.

Her brow crinkled in disappointment as she sat back at her desk. It was now just after four-thirty and in the time she'd be away from her desk a few other employees had slipped away for the day. But where did Jim go? She had driven into work so she knew he still had to be around somewhere. She was about to call his cell phone when the office door opened and in walked Jim, his head bowed in what seemed to be a very serious conversation with Parma.

“Hey,” Pam called.

Jim's head snapped up immediately, and Pam thought she saw a flicker of surprise cross his face. Surprise, she thought, or was it guilt?

“I thought you were going to nap for a whole hour,” he said teasingly as he and Parma stopped at her desk.

She ignored his comment. “Where've you been?” She was suddenly feeling cross and she didn't want to think about why.

“Nowhere,” he replied, his answer sounding defensive to Pam's ears.

“Here's your package,” Parma jumped in, handing her the large manila envelope.

“Thanks,” Pam said, her eyes still focused on Jim. “You haven't been at your desk since I went into the kitchen.”

Jim eyebrows raised in confusion. “I didn't know I was being monitored.” This time he really sounded defensive.

“You're not,” Pam replied dismissively. She looked down at the envelope, which felt much lighter than the other ones had. She turned her attention to Parma. “Did you have a nice holiday?”

If Pam's cheerfulness was obviously forced, Parma didn't comment on it. “Oh yeah, you know,” she said softly, “the usual family food fest and interrogation.”

Pam nodded, but it was clear she wasn't really listening.

Parma cleared her throat and took a step backwards toward the door. “Well, I better get going. You guys have fun tonight.” Without waiting for a reply she gave a small wave and left the office.

By the time Pam looked up again, Jim was back at his desk, and clearly not looking in her direction. Pam sat down in her chair still irritated, but this time for a different reason. What had come over her? She never thought of herself as the jealous sort, and certainly if there was one person she didn't have to worry was trying to steal her boyfriend it was Parma. The woman was directly responsible for the two of them finally getting together – what in the hell was she thinking? She kept her eyes on Jim, willing him to look up at her, but he was ignoring her.

She was about to send him an email when she noticed he was still logged into the message board.

pbeesly: I'm sorry.

She focused her gaze on her monitor, but she could tell out of the corner her eye that he hadn't moved. She waited for his response, opening up a new game of FreeCell to keep her distracted. She won one game and lost the next, and he still had not replied.

pbeesly: Are you there?

This time she was only halfway through her next game when he replied.

jhalpert: I am.

pbeesly: I'm sorry I snapped at you.

jhalpert: What in the hell was that all about?

pbeesly: I wish I knew, honestly.

jhalpert: She's your best friend!

pbeesly: I know!

jhalpert: You acted like you just caught us in flagrante delicto.

pbeesly: Impressive vocabulary. ;-)

jhalpert: Pam, I'm serious.

pbeesly: I know. Sorry. You know I don't get jealous – I guess I was just worried that I didn't see you and didn't know where you were.

jhalpert: Where did you think I'd gone?

pbeesly: That's the thing – I had no idea.

jhalpert: Well you better explain that to Parma.

pbeesly: I will. I'll plead temporary insanity.

jhalpert: At the very least.

Pam looked over at Jim to see him shaking his head at her in disbelief. She continued to play FreeCell, trying very hard to push that awkward and silly moment out of her head. She knew Parma would give her a hard time about it, but only because she'd knew Pam could get a little crazy when it came to a certain tall and dorky paper salesman. It took a moment for her to realize she had another message.

jhalpert: So....

pbeesly: So....?

jhalpert: You were jealous of Parma? ;-)

pbeesly: Shut up.

jhalpert: I didn't realize what a tight leash I was on, Beesly.

pbeesly: You're not! I'm just tired.

jhalpert: Right. You know, you told me last week that bump on the back of my neck was some sort of mosquito bite, but now I'm starting to wonder....

pbeesly: What are you talking about?

jhalpert: It's December. Where would I get a mosquito bite?

pbeesly: I don't know! I said it looked like a mosquito bite. It could be anything.

jhalpert: It could be a GPS microchip you had inserted as I slept.

pbeesly: OMG. You found me out.

pbeesly: You're a dork.

jhalpert: I'm not the one acting like Possessive Woman.

pbeesly: Isn't she a superhero?

jhalpert: Yes, she is – and her trademark is the Lasso of Mine!Mine!Mine!(TM)

Pam couldn't help but giggle at his remark, grateful that the tension between them had been broken.

jhalpert: You want to go home now?

pbeesly: Yes, please.

Jim wasn't about to let Pam off easily for her little outburst, and the trip home was filled with jokes of how smothered she was making him feel, and a request for the official list of women he could and couldn't talk to and exactly how close each could stand near him before it was considered 'too close'. By the time she pulled into their driveway Pam wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss him or slug him. Jim took the choice out of her hands when he grabbed her by the waist the moment they walked in the door, kissing her and pulling her back to their bedroom.

“We're going to be late to your parents,” Pam protested weakly.

“That's okay, I plan on blaming you for that.”

“And how it is it my fault exactly?”

“I'll tell them how how you made me prove to you that I'm dedicated only to you and your happiness.”

Pam laughed as they fell back onto their bed. “Made you, huh?”

“Absolutely. You don't think I'd be doing this of my own free will, do you?”

They laid in bed for much longer than they knew they should have, and by the time they dragged themselves out of bed and back into their clothes it was clear that they really were going to be late to dinner. Still, neither of them could manage to feel the slightest bit guilty.

“So what were you and Parma talking about?” Pam asked as she zipped up her skirt and looked around for her shoes.

“Nothing important,” Jim replied, slipping his black sweater over the white shirt he'd worn to work earlier.

“Nothing important?” Pam's tone was one of clear disbelief. “You looked awfully serious when you walked in.”

Jim shook his head. “Not really. She was talking about the New Year's Eve party. Did you tell me it was a charity event?”

“I'm not sure I knew it was,” Pam confessed, pulling her unruly hair back into a neat ponytail. “What charity?”

“I don't remember,” Jim mumbled, following Pam out into the kitchen. “Something for children?”

Pam stopped when she spotted the package Parma had given her earlier. She hadn't opened it at the office because she was too concerned with smoothing things over with Jim, but now that she saw it, she really wanted to open it. She glanced at her watch, then gave a hopeful look to Jim.

“Hey, can I open this before we leave?” She asked picking up the envelope.

“Pam, we're already late,” Jim complained.

She gave the envelope a good shake. “I don't think there's much in there today. It will only take a minute.” She gave him her best pleading look. “Please?”

Jim hesitated. “I have to put the gifts in the car,” he finally said. “You can read it while I do that, but then we have to leave.”

Pam had broken the seal on the envelope before Jim had even finished his sentence. She sat down at the small table and spilled the contents out in front of her. As she had suspected there was very little inside. The ivory envelope was there of course, but the only other item was a folded map. She smiled broadly as she opened it up: Promised Land State Park. Now that was a weekend she wouldn't soon forget. Knowing Jim would soon be rushing her out the door, she opened the letter.

My dear Pam,

Hey, after all these letters I thought I'd shake things up a little and change the salutation. I was going to go with 'Hey Hotstuff' – but I'm thinking I might save that for next month.

I hope yesterday's letter about our big moving fight went over okay. It's kinda hard writing these things out like this, so many days in advance - not knowing if I've said the wrong thing. I wanted to let you know that I try very hard not to make assumptions about things so we don't have another fight like that again.

I mean, I'm far from perfect, but you have to believe me when I'm saying I'm trying!

Well – that brings us to August, doesn't it?

I'd be lying if I said I knew what to say about that month. Not because I don't remember it – but more because I do. I completely and totally remember. I'm just not quite sure what to say about it.

Hmm....well, you moved in during the first week of the month, even though you had to pay rent on your old place for August anyway. Even though we already spent nearly all our time together, it did feel kinda weird at first. Weird in a good way, I mean! Weird in that it was beginning to sink in that after all we'd been through we'd finally reached this stage. I'm know you'll understand when I say I can remember a time when I thought something like that was beyond impossible. I know I probably say it too much, but sometimes it still amazes me that we got this lucky. We certainly seemed to try hard enough to prevent it happening!

Yeah, this package will be light on the souvenirs – because where did we go? Right, nowhere. First we were spending all our time moving your things over (and getting rid of stuff), then it was like we just lost all interest in the outside world.

Not that I minded – far from it! But it was quite a switch from our earlier days of trying every restaurant in a fifty mile radius and catching a new movie each weekend. Maybe we'd reached some sort of unspoken milestone where we were at a new comfort level with each other, maybe we were both a bit sensitive to the lingering doubts over the previous month's fight. I don't know – I'm not a pop psychologist. I just know there was a definite shift.

I can imagine you sitting somewhere reading this letter, and grinning inanely at my rambling. You know what I'm talking about, I know you do – and you are wondering just how much I'm going to say. What can I say? Part of me is aware of the possibility of this letter one day falling into someone's hands, and I really would rather not have anyone else read about our most private moments, you know? Even if I happen to be long dead when it happens. But on the other hand...

I have to admit you surprised me, Pam. It's not as if I had any complaints in that department to start with. But I don't know – it was like the moon was full all month or something! What I do know was how we sort of fell into this routine where as the work day wound down, you seemed fixated on winding me up. I should have known you were up to something when you suggested we set up secondary email accounts so we could talk without worrying that anyone at Dunder Mifflin was reading in. You certainly have a way with descriptions, I'll give you that. And if it was your mission to keep distracting me (and I think we both know the answer to that question!) you succeeded every time – though I'm sure that's not news to you. Looking back I guess I should have been surprised it took us until August to christen the office. But while it may have taken a few months to get around to it, you definitely made sure we made the most of it. I still have difficulty sitting in the conference room without thinking about those nights.

Of course I can't end this letter without mentioning our weekend at Promised Land. I thought we were heading for another argument when I first suggested it – you turned down the idea so strongly. I knew how much you had come to hate camping thanks to someone I'll leave unnamed. But I really thought it would be fun, and if we're being honest here, a weekend alone with you in the woods with nothing but a fire and tent had occasionally featured in my fantasies when we were apart. Okay, more than occasionally But the reality was even better.

I wish I had taken a picture of your face when we first arrived at our site. Site 123 – I had purposely chosen it because it was the only site without people right next to you on either side. I'm not sure what you were expecting – you did know we were bringing a tent, after all – but your expression of “What the hell is this?” both amused and worried me. But once we got the tent up, you soon realized just how cozy a secluded place in the woods could be.

I wonder if the people who were nearby even knew we were there – or if they thought the campsite was deserted. It's not like we ever interacted with anyone else during our stay. Well, except for Saturday night. I still don't know how I let you convince me skinny-dipping was a good idea. I couldn't even blame alcohol for that decision. We're just fortunate it was so dark, and that we found that canoe. Now that was a new experience for both of us.

I don't mean to imply that August was some super-charged month that we've never seen the likes of again. That's not true. But something changed, albeit slightly, and whether it was the hot weather or the moving in together or the ghosts of our big fight, it was a hell of a month. I felt like we became even closer in many ways. You showed me an adventurous side I hadn't expected, but more than enjoyed. And of course it wasn't all physical. It never is with us, is it? August was month that reminded me yet again how much I need you. How much I couldn't bear to not have you in my life. You're my guiding star, for as silly and cliched as it sounds. You are everything I could ever want, and I'm looking forward to many more months like that to come.

Love,

Jim

The sound of the front door slamming make Pam jump. She turned around to see Jim looking apologetic.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. The wind sort of shut the door for me.”

Pam stood up, folding the letter back into the envelope. She was full of thoughts from August, and really wasn't listening very closely. “That's fine,” she murmurred, “I was just finishing up here.”

“Are you okay?” Jim looked both amused and concerned.

Pam tried to clear her mind, and smiled. “Yeah, I'm fine. Are we ready to go then?”

“Yep, just a bathroom stop and I'm good to go.”

“Great, I'll get my coat and head out.”

As Jim walked passed her on his way down the hall, Pam reached out and grasped his wrist. He turned back, a question forming on his lips. He soon found Pam's lips covering his, and whatever he was about to say was long forgotten.

When she finally pulled back he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure you're okay?” He asked again.

“Yeah,” she smiled, “I'm more than okay.”

She waited until he had closed the bathroom door and turned back to the envelope. She certainly wasn't going to step out the door until she saw what the charm was. Given the nature of the letter, she really had no idea what charm he would have chosen to represent the month. She almost giggled aloud at the possibilities that crossed her mind. A bed? Miniature handcuffs? A tent? A canoe? The ideas became more and more outrageous as she peeled off the red and white striped paper. When the charm was finally revealed, she was more than a little surprised. It was a silver compass charm, with a directional arrow that actually moved.

She quickly exchanged yesterday's keys for today's charm before he could come back. He had called her his guiding star. She knew he was exactly the same to her.