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.