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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is pure fluff.

"I will still carry in my pocket the small coin of that moment
minted in the kingdom that we pace through every day. ---Billy Collins


The entire poem can be found here:

http://www.soulofthegarden.com/poem11.html





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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

Huge thanks to NanReg and Vampiric Blood for your help with this. You're awesome, but you know that.







He was opening a cardboard box in the nursery when he was startled to hear a small scream followed by a thud in the bedroom next door. He dropped his pocket knife in an instant and made it to the adjacent door in six strides, just in time to see Pam finish picking herself up off the floor. By the time he reached her, she had already plopped into a hardback chair in front of the closet, which was far from its usual place in the opposite corner of the room.


“Are you all right, Pam? What happened?” His heart was racing, but he was relieved to see anger in her expression rather than pain.


“Oh, I’m okay,” she hissed. “My foot slipped when I was trying to stand on this...this stupid chair,” she spat the last words out, clearly upset. “All I wanted to do was to put this,” she pointed to the plastic container on the ground beside her, “up there,” she explained, stabbing her finger toward the top shelf of the closet. “Can’t I do anything?” she wailed, and a tear of frustration found its way down her cheek as she added in exasperation, “My socks. My socks are slick.” As if that were the only problem.


Pam sat sniffling in the chair with her big flannel shirt pulled tight over her swollen belly. She wore stretch knit pants on legs that stuck out ungracefully at a wide angle and Jim had to control his urge to chuckle when he saw the thick fuzzy pink socks that covered her feet. How had he not noticed these earlier? She must have put them on recently.


His pulse had returned to normal, so he took a deep breath and said calmly, “Pam, you should have called me.” He tried his best to make it sound like a suggestion rather than a reprimand. “You’re not safe up on a chair in socks right now, you know?”


The concern in his voice must have been evident, because she looked up to meet his eyes, finally realizing that she’d scared him. “I’m sorry, my foot just slipped,” she shrugged. “I didn’t...well...it didn’t seem like such a big deal. I’d like to think I’m still capable of doing something,” she snorted.


“How about some shoes on those...(he wasn’t sure what to call them) feet, then?” he asked, trying to offer a practical solution. He knelt to rummage in the bottom of the closet.


“Don’t bother,” she rolled her eyes in disgust. “I can’t get them on.”


He found her favorite house shoes and started to slip one onto her foot, only to find that she was right. Her feet and ankles were badly swollen under the socks.

“Cinderella, you aren’t,” he quipped, and delighted in her shocked expression while he moved quickly out of range of her retaliatory swat. In the same motion, he grabbed the plastic container with a long arm and rose to place it easily on the shelf. “See? Simple. All you have to do is ask.”


"Showoff,” she said, but he noticed a brief smile play on her lips. This was progress.


The baby was due in two weeks, and this weekend they’d decided – or rather Pam had decided – that all the boxes they’d stored in the nursery had to be unpacked and their contents relocated. It was already late in the afternoon, and other than stopping for a bite of lunch, they’d been working constantly since that morning. Jim silently wondered if this was the “nesting phase” he’d read about that women were supposed to go through right before the baby was born, but he knew better than to suggest that to Pam.


“I can’t even reach my feet,” she whined, still frustrated. “Look at me!” she motioned to her protruding belly. “I’m like a...a beached whale. I’m fat. I’m ugly. I’m all swollen up. Jim, I can’t even put a box in the closet!” Her eyes welled up with tears as she worked herself up again.


“Hey, hey,” he said tenderly, “You are gorgeous, Pam. And you can still do lots of things.” He considered elaborating about this very morning, but then again, maybe not just now.


“Humph,” she replied, clearly not convinced.


Here was where things got sticky, Jim had observed. Over the last three weeks or so, sleeping had become difficult for his wife, and her frustration levels had increased dramatically. With some regularity, she’d reach some unpredictable breaking point and have a meltdown like this. When he tried to soothe her, he had to be very careful, because the slightest misstep on his part would end with even more tears. The obvious response of “Pam, you’re trying to do too much. You’re tired and you need a snack and a nap” might sound logical and helpful, but hard earned experience had taught him otherwise.


“How about I go down and get you a snack? A banana maybe?” Jim offered cautiously.


“I don’t want food,” she said, pouting. “I want to feel normal again.”


As it turned out, this time little Daniel was ready with an assist. All of a sudden there was an unmistakable movement of the shirt over Pam’s belly. Then a progressive wave undulated across the front of her abdomen, lasting several seconds, as the baby continued to shift.


“Oh,” Pam said in surprise at yet another kick, and instinctively put her hand on her belly.


Jim placed his hand beside hers and together they felt the baby rearranging in his confines. His face lit up spontaneously in a huge infectious grin, and when Pam looked at him, she couldn’t help but smile as well.


“That will NEVER cease to be amazing,” Jim said in reverent awe. “And it’s way better than being normal.”


She met his eyes and begrudgingly agreed, if only with her expression. I already owe you one, little guy, Jim thought to himself.


Now he needed to make good use of this advantage. “So Pam, why don’t you lie down for a few minutes - let me rub your feet...” he ventured.


She looked hesitant. “But we need to get all..”


He interrupted. “Then we can finish up the boxes and after that I’ll run out and pick up some Meridee’s for dinner.” Pam had developed an unnatural craving for bread, Jim noted, and each of Meridee’s entrees came with the best yeast rolls in town. “Some of those great yeast rolls?”


He saw her expression soften just the smallest amount, and he took his cue.


“C’mon,” he beckoned, taking her hand and leaning back to help her to her feet.

She let him lead her to the bed. “Just lie down here,” he suggested, patting the bed, “and I’ll rub your feet for a few minutes while you rest.” He would have suggested other activities, but they’d already done that early this morning. The upside of Pam not being able to sleep and having all these raging hormones, was that she was always wanting to...um...make love. And far be it for him, her helpful husband, not to make damn sure his wife got everything she needed. “Truth is, Pam, I’m dying to feel up those socks,” he leered.


“Pervert,” she said, but she giggled a little.


That was more like it, Jim thought, not denying a thing.


“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly, “but I’m not going to take a nap.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just for a few minutes.”


“Right,” he agreed amiably. “Then it’s back to work.”


And with that, she climbed awkwardly into bed, settling on her side facing the edge.

“Here, don’t think you’ll need these.” Jim reached to lift off her glasses and place them on the night table. Then he took a seat at the foot of the bed and ever so gently started kneading her swollen, sock covered feet. Where in the world had she found these ridiculous socks? He felt her slowly relax as he worked, and knew he was successful when she let out a deep sigh.


“Oh, that feels good,” she breathed quietly, her eyes closed. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it for two more weeks,” she admitted, “and that’s if he comes on time.”


“One day at a time, Beesly,” he soothed and soon he noticed her breathing become slow and regular. He lessened his touch gradually until he was sure she was asleep. Then he unfolded the worn quilt that lay over the footboard of the bed, and carefully pulled it over her.


Time to get to work, he thought. There were boxes to be cleared, and the more he could get done while she was sleeping, the better. He tiptoed silently toward the door, but when he reached that portal, he paused. He placed a hand high on the door frame, and turned back to look at her.


The golden afternoon light shone in through the long window over their bed. In the shadows below, his wife lay sleeping peacefully, heavily pregnant, her curls spilling out over the pillow they’d shared this morning. She was draped with a patchwork quilt his grandmother had stitched many years before. Even in that instant, he knew this moment would stay with him forever.


He and Pam were on the verge of starting their own family, here, together, in the only place he’d ever called home. Never, he reflected, had the world seemed quite this right.





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Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading this little bit of fluff. I'm in serious TO withdrawal during this break and if I can't watch anything new, by golly, I'll have to write what I'd like to see. Reviews are always appreciated if you have the time and the inclination - it's always helpful to hear what people liked or didn't like (and I mean that).

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