Simberry Fields Residents' Blog

Mount Branyon Campus Tour

2012-01-07T16:08:00.012-05:00

The wind was still bitterly cold, but at least the snow had disappeared from the ground by the time the envoy of perspective students from Apple Valley had arrived on Mount Branyon's campus for a tour. A new term had begun after the holiday break, and the campus was once again flooded with students and professors, mulling about campus and going about their business in the chilly winter air.

Upon arrival at Prentice Hall, the students hurried into the warm confines of the old, well-kept building, but their chaperone, Ginger Grey, took a moment to take in the rather grand old structure.

"It's one of the oldest buildings on campus," their tour guide, Professor Remus Outridge, explained as he gestured to the tall stone hall. "Not to mention one of the oldest in the area. Our school was founded what was once called Olde Simberig, the heart of the settlement that began Simberry Fields. Many of the buildings in this area are hundreds of years old, and have been restored and incorporated into the University. Prentice Hall houses many of our classrooms, including the Art History, Literature and Conservation classrooms, as well as an off-shoot of the main library. Weathered though it is," he explained, "The building is carefully maintained, and we're incredibly happy to be able to give our students a taste of the past when they come to class."

The three students that had come to tour the campus - Annie and Bryant Grey, and Amanda Winsloff - were shown around campus by various alumni, and saw everything from the various halls and laboratories to the dorms and annexes, and the research and administration buildings. Their tour was winding down as they began to explore Prentice Hall with Professor Outridge as their guide.

The small library in Prentice Hall was perhaps one-twentieth of the size of the Main Library they have visited the previous day, but it was cozy, and well-stocked. Current Mount Branyon students mulled around within the confines of the room, taking notice of the newcomers.

Senior Raj Pratap struck up a conversation with Amanda Winsloff, and explained that he was a Finance major at the University.

"It's been a good experience for me here. The professors are all really involved, really knowledgeable about their field, you know? One of my professors is actually the former financial head of Simberry Savings and Loan! It's that real-world experience that makes the things the professors and instructors say resonate with you. And yeah, classes are tough, but if you're struggling, you can always find a tutor - the bulletin boards down in the Dining Commons are always plastered with adverts for them! Plus, there are groups that meet in the Study Center in Manchester Hall every Wednesday night if you find yourself falling behind."

Meanwhile, Annie Grey was discussing classes with Anouk Bramley, a junior Music major. "Well, yeah, class sizes are pretty reasonable," Anouk said with a wave of her hands. "Only about ten students or so to a professor in any given class. There are some that are more heavily populated, granted, but those are mostly your pre-req classes, your maths, your Simlishes. You get the idea. But your classes are pretty individualized, you get to know your professors, which is a good thing... most of the time. Then again, if you get Professor Prewett, best of luck to you, because the woman's a right old slave dri... erm... hello there, Professor Outridge. How's it goin'?"

Meanwhile, Bryant Grey and chaperone Ginger were sitting in on one of the Literature classes upstairs.

"... Now! Poetry! Why do we study it? Anyone, anyone... put your hand down, Mister Kiel, let's see if any one of your peers knows the answer. Come now, I'm sure one of you can offer an idea!" Professor Lambrick said from the front of the class.

"Because it's in the course book?" One messy haired boy said from the back of the classroom. Professor Lambrick appeared nonplussed.

"Not quite what I was looking for, Mister Quigley. Miss Thewes?"

A mousy-haired girl sitting just in front of Professor Lambrick's desk let her hand slip from the air, and cleared her throat. "We study poetry because poems are one of the most powerful literary devices used to convey ideas or opinions. Poetry is, is... beauty, when crafted well, and as sims, it helps us connect with the beauty in the world around us."

Professor Lambrick grinned. "Spoken like a true poet, Miss Thewes. Excellent. Now, take note of these types of poetry...." He turned and scratched out the words 'Epic', 'Haiku', 'Fable', and 'Free Verse', before the boy called Quigley interjected, "What about limericks, Professor?"

Professor Lambrick glanced over his shoulder with a chuckle, and nodded. "Yes, Mister Quigley, limericks too."

Downstairs, Annie had encountered Christoph Emmerich, senior Political Science major and head of the Student Union.

"Leaving your friends is always hard," he said sympathetically, "But staying in contact with sims in your hometown is easy, with phone, email and inter-hood visits. And besides, you're sure to meet new friends as well."

Ever on the look out for new members of the Student Union, he added, "With all the groups and clubs around campus, I'm sure you could find sims with similar interests. There's the Arts Association, the Film Society, the Chess Club, the Dance Team, the sports teams... and we're always organizing mixers and socials at the Student Union!"

Later in the day, when they were given the change to meander around the campus on their own, Amanda and Bryant found themselves in the main library, discussing the prospect of becoming students at Mount Branyon, and whether the University would be a good fit for them.

Simberry Fields Yuletide Festival

2011-12-24T16:40:00.019-05:00

There was a tremendous turn out of the annual Simberry Fields Yuletide Festival. Sims from across the city - and across SimNation - came for the festivities. The highlights of the event included a tree-lighting ceremony, and performances by numerous musicians. The performance by national super stars Aerial Bionic put the crowd in a frenzy.

Jimmie Paige took the stage and rocked the crowd.

After the show, Jimmie caught up with Aerial Bionic's Trevor Yates to talk shop.

Before the presentation of A Christmas Carol, Amelie White of Port Manteau caught up with an old family friend, Simberry native BriAnna McBride.

And later, BriAnna showed some displeasure in her son Gabriel's choice of attire out in the cold winter air.

Meanwhile, S'Ahmisa and Si'Enya Warwick of Apple Valley enjoyed the music, and spent time between shows enjoying nature.

And later, after the concert was over, S'Ahmisa struck up a conversation with Gabriel about Aerial Bionic's spectacular performance.

Another visitor from Apple Valley, Ginger Grey spent the majority of the evening catching up with her old friend Neeve Boudin-Bexley.

Ginger was in the neighborhood to chaperone a group of perspective Mount Branyon University students from Apple Valley: Annie and Bryant Grey, and Amanda Winsloff. The students had taken a break from touring the University, just long enough to come enjoy the festival, and see University student's in action in the A Christmas Carol performance.

Meanwhile, Audrey DeBarbarak and Joe Deveraux (from Simberry Fields and Simberry's sub-hood, Monreauxville Crossing, respectively) were deep in what appeared to be an interesting conversation.

And off in the trees, Gabriel McBride and Port Manteau's Amelie White - ahem - caught up....

... But managed to compose themselves long enough to say hello to the camera.

Facing Facts - Audrey DeBarbarak

2011-12-15T17:52:00.011-05:00

Audrey had been in Berlin for a few weeks. The chilly temperature and the near constant snow made it far too easy for her to sit in her rented room and ponder how she should go about telling her family about her, well, condition.

Finally, after long days watching the snow pile up outside, Audrey finally decided to pick up the phone.

*ring*

'Okay. I can do this.'

*ring*

'This isn't going to be as hard as it seems.'

*ring*

'Yeah, it'll be fine...'

Finally the beep of her mother's answering machine sounded, and Audrey slumped in relief. 'Oh, thank you!' She thought, silently smiling. Her happy demeanor was short lived, however, as halfway through the answering machine message, her mother picked up the phone.

"Oh, oh, hang on there, I'm here!"

'Oh, hell.' Audrey's shoulders slumped again, and she took a deep breath.

"Hey, Mum," she said into the receiver, trying to sound upbeat. "How are you?"

"Audie! Audie, honey, it's so good to hear from ya! Oh, darlin', I've missed you so much! How are you, sweetheart? Doin' well? Stayin' healthy? Are they feedin' ya well there in Rome, as if I even need to ask? Thank you so much for that package, by the way, honey, I used the pancetta in a pasta I made the other day for your brother... needless to say there are no leftovers!"

Audrey smiled somewhat wearily. "No problem, Mum. Yeah, I'm doing well, but I'm not in Italy any more... I'm in Berlin."

"Berlin? Sweetheart, you do realize it's winter, don't ya?"

"Yes, Mum."

"It must be freezin'!"

"Yes, Mum. But, it's fine, I'm fine. How've you been?"

"Oh, I'm doin' just fine, darlin'. We're comin' up on the Yule Festival again, and you know, it's terribly, terribly fun. I'm on the committee again this year, and it's goin' to be just fabulous! I sure wish you'd be home for it."

"I might be, but Mum, that's not what I called about...."

"You're comin' home? Oh, Lordy, darlin', I'm so happy to hear that! You know I love havin' my babies around me for the holidays!"

"Mum...."

"And oh! Maybe you could help me get things settled. We're gonna need some able bodies to help set up the exhibits, and the stage for the performance of A Christmas Carol!"

"Mum...."

"And I could always use a hand with the baking. I'm takin' a mess o' cookies down to the shelter again this year...."

"Mum...." Audie ran a hand through her hair. Somehow, when her mother went off on a tangent, Audie had a hard time getting a word in edgewise. "MUM!"

"And... oh, yes, baby girl?"

"There's something I need to tell you."

"Well, go on, honey! What is it?"

Audrey pursed her lips. "I... I...."

"You... you don't wanna come home for Christmas, honey?"

"No, it's not that."

"Then... you don't want to help with the festival?"

"That isn't it, Mum..."

"Well, I don't need help with the cookies, I just thought...."

"Mum, I'm pregnant."

There was, for lack of a better term, a pregnant pause.

"Come again, darlin'?" Her mother asked, her voice an octave higher than usual.

Audrey swallowed hard, and steeled her resolve. "I said I'm... I'm pregnant."

The only thing that could be heard on the line was a gentle crackling.

"Mum?"

"Mum? Say... something. Please?"

"Pregnant?" Her mother breathed.

"Yes ma'am"

"Pregnant?"

"Mmm-hmm"

"Pregnant?"

Audrey sighed. "Yes."

"How? When?"

"When? Right after I lost my job. As for how, Mum, let's not get into that right now. Or, at all...."

"Pregnant?"

"Mum."

"You're telling me I'm going to have a grandchild?"

A smile threatened to break Audrey's worried expression. This was the reaction she had expected. "Yes."

They spent the next hour or so on the phone, Audrey giving up every - or almost every - detail about how she was feeling, what she was eating, how many check-ups she had been to, what she was planning on doing, when she was planning on coming home.

Finally, with red ears from being pressed against the phone for so long, Audrey stopped her mother in the middle of a tirade about the importance of eating the rights foods. "I've got to go, Mum. It's, uh, it's way past lunch and I'm getting kind of hungry."

"O'course, darlin'! You go, eat up. I love you, sweetheart. You take care o' yourself, and that baby, you hear?"

"Yes, Mum. Love you too. Bye."

Audrey hung up the phone, and drew in a deep, heaving breath. It was only a moment before she dissolved into tears. Relieved, sad, frightened tears.

Back in Simberry, BriAnna was hanging up the phone as well. She grinned from ear to ear, but slowly, the longer she stood there, the expression faded.

Frank entered the room not long after. "Hello, sugar," he greeted her, "What's going on? I thought you'd be down at the Fairgrounds by now..."

"My baby's having a baby," she blurted.

"Your what's having a what?" He gaped, and she pursed her lips, feeling a weight settling into her chest. "Oh, sugar," he said, immediately taking her in his arms. "That's... That's wonderful, right?"

"'Course," she muttered, swallowing hard. It was what she had always hoped for, after all, her little girl having a family of her own. But somehow, faced with it, she was now more overcome with worry for her daughter than happiness.

Gott in Himmel! - The Hochstetler Family

2011-12-04T19:13:00.007-05:00

It had been more than a month since Amos Hochstetler’s dear wife Sarah had passed. Four children she had brought into the world, four beautiful, healthy children. She had been so happy to find that she would be bearing a fifth. Nine long sim-months passed just as they had with the other children, but when the time came, something was different. Something was wrong.

It wasn’t their way to bring outsiders in, and when Miriam Hershberger, the community’s Amish mid-wife, told Amos with a hint of panic in her voice to hurry and call a doctor, Amos hesitated. Surely Miriam, with her decades of experience bringing Amish children into the world, could keep the situation under control. If only he hadn’t waited to call Dr. Vogel. If only he had listened when she’d told him the first time….

Now Sarah was gone, and with her, their baby. The close-knit Amish community of Simmersburg had come together to provide support for the grieving family, but Amos wanted nothing of it. All he wanted was his dear wife back. Even his everyday chores were often peppered with instances of being unable to keep the tears at bay.

Amos wasn’t the only one feeling Sarah’s loss profoundly. Young Susanna, just barely fifteen and having completed her schooling, was left alone as the woman of the household with three small children. She missed her mother’s sweet voice singing as she hung the laundry on wash day. She missed that together-time every night after supper, when Sarah would stand with her eldest daughter at the sink, working over the day’s dishes, and talk about the girl’s day. She missed her mother’s level-headedness, her caring, her gentle way she kept the house running.

Now it was all left to Susanna. The cooking and cleaning and laundry and gardening; the sewing and the mending; the minding of the children and the looking after her father. The twins, Sol and Leah, were too young to take on more responsibility than they had - minding the dogs and horses, helping Dat on the farm after school, keeping up with their homework… it was enough for them. They still had to be children.

Susanna stood in the kitchen one night preparing supper. Her father was putting the horses up for the evening out in the barn, and judging by the squeaking of the floorboards above Susanna’s head, Sol and Leah were playing upstairs. Little Caleb was near, as he always was, playing with a wooden spoon and a few old, dented pots and pans, making what Susanna wouldn’t have necessarily called music, but a tune nonetheless.

When dinner was ready – a tasty, sweet ham with the last of the harvest’s fresh corn, her mother’s smashed potatoes and fresh baked rolls – she called her family to the table, tearing Caleb with some difficulty from his make-shift drums and setting him in his seat at the end of the table.

It didn’t escape Susanna’s attention that her father’s eyes were red-rimmed again, and she frowned deeply as she spread a napkin on her lap. Amos didn’t wait for a comment from his eldest as he closed his eyes and bowed his head, his children following in suit, ready for prayer.

“Unser Fodder, dar duh bischt im Himmel…”

“I don’t want to pray.”

Susanna’s eyes popped open, coming to focus on Leah, sitting wide-eyed across the table from her. She glanced at her father, who seemed to be struggling to process his daughter’s words.

“Why would you say such a thing?” He finally asked, and little Leah didn’t bother looking abashed.

“Gott took Mama. I don’t want to pray to Him anymore.”

Susanna felt her jaw go slack. “Leah!” She admonished quickly, stunned that such a thing could come out of her sister’s mouth. “Sufnix!”

“But I don’t!”

“Muss ich dresche dich?! Speaking so at the table! What would Mama say?”

“Mama isn’t here. And I don’t want to pray no more.”

“Leah, you listen here…” Susanna began again, but her father held up his hand.

“She is angry, Susanna,” he said softly. “She is allowed to be.”

Susanna gaped at her father. She had expected a thorough tongue-lashing for saying such rutsching, at the supper table no less! But it seemed that there would be no such thing happening, and Susanna didn’t see it fit.

“Ach, Dat, she’s being lippy….”

“Jah, and so are you, talking back to your dat.”

Susanna felt redness creeping to her cheeks as she searched for words. Before she could find them, her father bowed his head again, and began anew. “Unser Fodder, dar duh bischt im Himmel…”

Susanna bowed her own head, scowling at Leah, who sat straight and didn’t participate. Sol looked stunned at the exchange he had just witnessed, but one look at Susanna’s sour expression, and he crosses his hands in his lap and dipped his head.

Running Away - Audrey DeBarbarak

2011-11-28T09:55:00.004-05:00

Does it do any good to deny change when it comes to you? Can you cling to your old life, refusing to let change take over? Or are you powerless against it?

Audrey sighed heavily and picked at her gelato. It was seasonably cool in Rome that day, but her stomach wasn’t having anything heavier than the gentle, sweet fior di latte gelato that morning. Audrey thought was a perfect day to sit outside, enjoy the sunshine, and obsess over things out of your control.

It had all started with a doctor’s visit for stomach flu. Well, the whole situation actually hadn’t started there, but that’s about where this particular break-down had begun.

Nauseous, achy and exhausted, she had gone in to see Dr. Vogel for an appointment. He had done the usual: checked her out, given her some antibiotics and ran some labwork. It was when she got a call that she needed to be seen again, to go over her results, that the red flag was raised.

“It’s got to be pneumonia. Or influenza. Or, or… Upside-Down Face Plague! That’s what it is. I’m dying of Upside-Down Face Plague! So what if they say it’s extinct, they could be wrong!”

Audrey sat alone in the cold, sterile exam room, mulling over various, painful, debilitating diseases until Dr. Vogel came in. Somehow, the news he brought with him was SO much worse, in Audie’s opinion, than Upside-Down Face Plague.

_______________________________

“Pregnant?”

The word repeated itself over and over again in her mind as she sat in airport, waiting for her flight.

“Pregnant?”

How it was even possible, she didn’t know. Surely one stupid night with Joe (of all sims in the world, JOE), couldn’t equal a pregnancy. It just couldn’t! She had always been careful, safe, when she was with Matt. With her other boyfriends – or boyfriend, rather – too. What kind of irony was it, that the first night she ever drank more than she could handle, the first night she ever went home with a man and wasn’t safe, that she would end up, end up…

“Pregnant.”

_______________________________

First she arrived in Kyoto. She spent days shut in her room in the little ryokan just outside the city, eating, bonding with the little old lady who ran the inn, and making it a point to avoid taking calls from her family.

When the walls of the ryokan seemed to be closing in, Audie took flight again, this time setting out across the China Sea for Taizhou, China. Then to Tibet. Then to Agra, India.

Whenever she was overcome by morning sickness, or when the waistband of her jeans got a little bit tighter, she was nearly choked by the desire to run, to get so far away that maybe, somehow, she might be able to leave her problems behind.

What she didn’t realize, was that it’s very difficult to run from something when that something is part of you.

__________________________________

Audrey had been in Rome for a while now. Her mother had been calling daily, concerned that she'd hadn't heard from her eldest child in close to two weeks. Her mom didn't even know she was in Italy, Audrey realized. Last time they'd talked, Audie had still been in India, and the last time she spoke with her brother, she'd been in Japan. That was all less than a handful of weeks ago, Audie knew, but still, it seemed time to get in touch with her family back in SimNation.

Audie finished her gelato, and stared down at the cellphone in her hand.

“Com'on. Just dial. Mum will be making herself sick, and making Gabe and Frank crazy. I should just call... I owe them that much,” she thought to herself.

What was she going to say when she got them on the phone? “Hi, Mum, I'm still on my jaunt 'round the world. Oh, I assure you, this is a completely normal reaction to getting fired, and finding out... finding out....”

She grimaced, and glanced downward. Her clothes were tightening around her mid-section. If she wanted to, she could likely attribute that fact to the enormous amounts of Japanese, Chinese, Tibetan, Indian and Italian food she'd consumed during her journey from Simberry Fields to international destinations unknown. She wished that was the reason for her nausea, her growing waistline and her increasingly bad complexion. She wished it had nothing to do with the fact that she was, at the moment, 'up the spout', as her Aunt Carrie had always said.

Audie cringed again, and tugged on the fabric of her sweater to help cover the emerging bump.

Again, she glanced down at her cell phone. Without a second thought - almost as a reflex - she tossed it over her shoulder, and it landed with a splash in the crystalline water of the fountain. The sound made Audrey smile. Even though putting off telling her family wouldn't rectify the situation, it somehow made it easier to disregard, at least for the moment.

With a deep breath, Audie stood, and strode off towards the Villa Borghese gardens for what she hoped to be a relaxing day.

Obsessing - Joe Deveraux

2011-11-22T21:28:00.004-05:00

There wasn't much in life that succeeded in shaking Joe Deveraux. Physically he was what some would call bombproof – six foot three and muscle-bound from years working for his family’s construction company. He was mentally sharp, quick-witted and frequently exercised great – or at least decent – self-control. Give the man a problem and he could solve it; a dispute, he could settle it; a deadline, he could make it. Joe was just that kind of sim.

There was only one aspect of his life that Joe didn’t feel he had complete control over. And that aspect involved women.

________________________________________________________

It had been a long, hard day at work for Joe. He'd spent the morning running all over Simberry for three different jobs he was supervising, then he hit the office to take care of employee reviews and to battle budget crunches. After lunch he had stopped by the Paige house to oversee his crew's final touches on the property, then it had been off to meet with a perspective client. In other words, it was just another day, but Joe was particularly beat that night when he got home.

He dropped his jacket, papers and toolbelt at the door and kicked off his shoes, heading for the kitchen and making b-line for a beer in the fridge. Exhausted, he flopped down on his couch in front of the tv, and flicked it on. He stared at the picture for a moment, before lulling his head back, already distracted.

'Ya screwed up good this time, boy,' he thought ruefully to himself. With a sigh he closed his eyes, but - just as it had been for the past month - all he could see was Audrey, the pushy, workaholic designer that had made him crazy for the past few months since he and his company had been contracted by Aero Architectural Designs Inc.

This woman... she'd pushed his buttons and tested his patience, with her constant changing of designs halfway through the building process and her continuous nit-picking. Perfectionist didn't begin to describe the woman. She made him nuts, and they always seemed to get into verbal altercations over one thing or another when they were on the job, about what she had changed or what he and his crew had or hadn't done. She drove him completely, unequivocally crazy....

But that wasn't the Audrey he saw when he closed his eyes. All he could see was her, spread out on her bed before him, her skin bronze in the candle light. He could see her reaching for him, pulling herself into his arms. He could see, oh, he could see….

"Oh, hell," he growled aloud to the empty room, shaking those images out of his head.

It had all started that night at the pub downtown. He had gone for a much needed drink, after a long day at work. He'd come in and there she was, surrounded by a group of her friends across the bar. Simberry was small enough, and it wasn't long before the day's good gossip had reached Joe's ears. She was dragged there by her friends to drink away the memory of walking in on her boyfriend cheating with her boss. He'd hazarded a glance over at her more than a few times that night, and it seemed to him like she’d wanted to be anywhere but in that smoky pub, a feeling that must’ve been tripled when Matt, that scrawny little shit of an assistant – or boyfriend, Joe thought with a snort – came sauntering in with his new girl. Joe had seen the look on Audie’s face. She’d looked like a shot deer, confused and hurt. Joe took a swig of his beer, and shook his head again.

None of that changed the fact that he’d made a mistake. Never in his life had he taken a woman home who was as plastered as Audie had ended up being that night. It didn’t matter why she was drunk, it didn’t matter that she’d initiated the encounter, it didn’t matter that he’d wanted her… all that mattered was that it had happened, and he had been just drunk enough to allow himself to do it.

When he woke up in her house the next morning, she was long gone. He’d dressed and let himself out, and tried to call her later that day (and the next, and the next), but he never got an answer. It was only on the next Monday when he went in to meet with her about the Paige project that he'd found out what had happened. Thanks to the drama with her former boyfriend, and her then-boss, she’d ended up quitting – or getting fired, he wasn’t quite sure which, and had apparently fled the office (and, if he’d listened to the gossip, fled the country).

That was over a sim-month ago, and Joe hadn’t seen or heard from Audrey since. With a frustrated sigh, Joe resolved to push her from his mind – something an angry call from his ex made exponentially easier – and he had completely put her from his mind by the time he was climbing into bed that night. Somewhere between thinking about the timber order he'd would receive the next day, about needing to replace his fleet of trucks, needing to get the bill of the Page house to Aero, and needing to get some semblance of food on the house, he found his mind drifting back to her . He fell asleep, trying not to think of her sharp wit and quick temper, her soft skin and the taste of her lips on his. Needless to say, he failed miserably.

Bakery Blues - Neeve Boudin-Bexley

2011-11-16T19:22:00.003-05:00

Exhaustion. Pure and simple. Neeve had spent only twelve hours at the bakery that day - a short day, compared to other recent workdays - but she felt like she had been on her feet for no less than twenty hours straight.

Neeve locked up that night after the last of her employees left, and climbed the stairs to her family's home, a cozy apartment above the bakery. It was past eleven o'clock already, she realized as she scaled the stairs, picking up discarded toys and shoes as she climbed.

Dragging her weary feet across the carpet, she first checked in on little Killian. He was fast asleep, tucked into his crib, his dark curls spread out around his head like a halo. Little baby Ryan, so pale and tiny, didn't stir at all when she kissed him gently on the head, inhaling the sweet smell of baby powder.

The last place she stopped before her own bedroom was to see Sheenagh. Neeve saw the light pouring out of the little pink bedroom, and her brow furrowed. Peeking her head in, she saw her little daughter, asleep with a book clutched in her hand. Neeve smiled and went to tuck her in, but as soon as she slipped the book from the little hand, the girl woke up.

"You're late tonight, Mama," Sheenagh grumbled sleepily. "You said you'd read to me."

Neeve frowned and nodded, speaking softly to her little girl. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's too late now...."

"Just one chapter, Mama?"

"No, baby."

"Just a little? Please, Mama?"

"I...." Neeve stopped herself, looking down at her sweet little redhead. "Just a little."

She sat cross-legged on the floor beside her daughter's bed, and cracked open 'The Hobbit', her daughter's favorite book.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit..."

Ten minutes later, with the little girl off in dreamland, Neeve heaved herself upwards and turned off the light, sliding the book into Sheenagh's full bookcase.

She came into the bedroom, kicking off her shoes, and closed the door quietly behind her.

"Hello, love."

She turned with a tired smile to see Tristan relaxing on the bed, a book in his hand.

"Ye said ye would be up an hour ago. And an hour before that," he pointed out in his heavy brouge, but he didn't sound mad.

"I know," she admitted, scuffing her way toward the bed, not bothering to even remove her apron before she climbed up. In an instant she was wrapped in the comfortable embrace of her husband's arms.

He kissed the top of her head, "Yer exhausted, darlin'. Why don't you let me open up the shop tomorrow mornin'?"

Already half asleep, Neeve grunted. "I have a delivery of flour coming at five, and you've got to be to work yourself...."

"The office can wait, love. Ye need to catch up on sleep."

All Neeve could do was sigh. She didn't require any further persuasion.

Strained: Jimmie Page

2011-11-14T18:14:00.003-05:00

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Jimmie finished her set. She used every ounce of energy she had to make her last song her best, and when she finished, the crowd erupted again.

"Thank you! Good night!"

Out of breath and covered in a thin sheen of sweat she hurried off stage, through the maze of rigging and instruments, being flanked by security on one side and her manager on the other.

"Excellent show, Jim," Ashur, her stalwart manager, shouted over the din of the crowd as he hurried her towards the tour bus, draping a towel over her shoulder. "Now! It's eighteen hours to the next city and you've got three signings and an interview at KSIM in Siminneapolis before your next show. The reps from Impact called, by the way, and when we get back to Simberry, it's straight to the recording studio to finish up that track you're doing for the movie, that, that...."

"Caesar’s Ghost?" Jimmie panted, mopping at the back of her neck.

"Yes! That's it."

"That's great, Ashur," Jimmie sighed, exiting out of the arena and into the cool night air. She made a B-line for her tour bus, and offered her manager an unconvincing smile as she threw the door open and climbed in. "See you in Simmneapolis!"

She slammed the door behind her, and tossed her towel aside. Taking a deep breath she pressed her eyes closed and sighed aloud.

Her adrenaline rush was starting to wane already, and she knew from experience that it was only a matter of time before exhaustion set in.

She stripped out of the eye-catching outfit she'd worn on stage that night, and pulled out her comfiest pair of pajamas. She washed the ten-pounds of makeup off her face, and brushed through her hair, tying it loosely into a braid before she collapsed onto her bed.

Flipping through a magazine - somewhere between eager to see the article that was written about her, and dreading it completely - she let her mind wander. She wondered how her dogs were faring at home, way back in Simberry. She wondered how the remodeling of her grandmother's house was going. She wondered if the beaches were closing up for the season yet or not, and she wondered how long she would be able to put off going back into the studio once she arrived home.

It wasn't that she didn't love her job. She had dreamed of being in the spotlight since she was a child, always performing in school plays and singing at talent competitions. She had just never expected things to blow up the way they had; she never expected it to go so far.

Now, at the tail end of a thirty city tour, with another international one planned for kick-off in only a few short months, she wondered if she had the stamina for it.

She didn't have long to ponder it, with a knock sounding on the door of the bus. She briefly pondered telling the intruder to go away, but instead she tossed her magazine down and called wearily, "Com'on in!"

It wasn't a moment before Leander Snow's happy face peered in her doorway, and he climbed up.

"Bonzer show tonight, Jim!" He announced, grinning from ear to ear, still dressed in his own on-stage outfit.

Jimmie gave him a tired smile. "I take it that means 'good'?"

The Aussie laughed, "It means great! Spectacular! You really gave 'em somethin' to talk about tonight. I dunno how you just get better and better."

Jimmie rolled her eyes, "I don't know if I do. But thanks, Leander. So, are you all ready to tuck in?"

"Nah!" He declared,"No way! I've got a few new songs I'm workin' on, need to get 'em polished up by the time we get back to Simberry! That and I've got to get a bite of somethin' to eat, and I've got a pretty girl that needs emailin'."

Jimmie's eyebrows shot up, and she grinned at him. "Is that right?"

"Oh, yeah. Avery. She's a darlin'."

"Meet her on the tour, did you? Be careful of those groupies, Leander. You never know what you're gonna get with them!"

"Nah, Jim! A friend o' mine introduced me to her back in Simberry. Dunno if she's interested in me really - we haven't seen much of each other - but she's... she's….”

Jimmie chuckled at the sudden, dreamy expression on his face. “Bonzer?” She offered, and he threw his head back and laughed.

“Exactly! Well, better go. G’night Jim!”

“Night, Leander.”

Alone again, Jimmie laid back and spread out on her bed. It was sweet that Leander had a girl – someone to go home to, or at least look forward to seeing. Jimmie frowned in the darkness, and suddenly she wondered, what good was all the recognition, all the accomplishment, if at the end of the day, you have no one to share it with?

Bella Bernardi - Suburb Blues

2009-07-01T07:34:00.001-04:00

I stomped down the stairs of my new suburban home, following my husband with a raised fist. “You listen to me, Ronaldo Bernardi, non vivrò come questo! I will not live like this!”

He shook his head, refusing to turn around and look at me, and just kept striding through the kitchen and towards the front door. “Stop with the dramatics, Bella, por favore.”

I snarled at the disdain that practically dripped from his voice. “Do not patronize me!”

“Oh, how could I? You're only treating a move to the 'burbs like a life-sentence in San Vittorio!”

I grabbed his arm, and used what force I had in my svelte body to spin my heavily muscled husband around. “I cannot stand it, Ronaldo! All I do all day is sit in this house and cook and clean and... ah! Don't give me that look!”

Ronaldo attempted to wipe the smirk off his face. “So doing wifely and motherly chores is torture?”

“It is for me! If you wanted a wifey-wife, you shouldn't have married me!”

“Don't tempt me with the thought, Bella.”

“Ugh!” I slapped his arm, and pointed a thin finger at him. “Why did we move here?! Why couldn't we have stayed in Sim City?! Why couldn't you have stayed in the family business?!” I slapped him again for good measure.

“You wanted me to stay there?” His voice was suddenly low and menacing as he grabbed my wrist and held it tight between our bodies. “Even your father was telling me to get out, that things were getting too hot too quickly, and you wanted me to stay there? Tell me, amore mio, how badly do you want to be a widow?”

“Ronaldo, stop it...”

He jerked my wrist, and squeezed it tighter. “The Rossi family is out to kill me, to avenge Antonio's death, and you're worried about feeding your shopping habit?” His eyes narrowed on my, and I shifted under his gaze.

“Stop it, Ronaldo, you're scaring me....”

“Oh, I'm scaring you now? Salvatore Rossi and his men don't scare you, the idea of your husband being gunned down doesn't scare you, but your shopping habit being threatened, that frightens you?” A cryptic laugh rumbled through his chest. “Do you know what I did for that money, Bella? Do you know how many sims' blood was spilled so you could wear your Gucci shoes, and carry your Prada bags? Do you have any idea?”

I shook my head, and managed to jerk my hand away. “Stop it.”

The two stood silent for a moment, and Bella stared off into the distance. I would not think about those kinds of things, I would not. I didn't have any say in the things my husband did, just as I didn't have any say in the activities of my father, or my brothers, or my uncles, or.... I sighed.

“Bella, listen to me.” Ronaldo's voice was softer now, and I looked up to see that his face had lost it's snarling, menacing expression.

“Why don't you take the train into Downtown Simberry for the day, but ah ah ah! Listen,” he said, noticing how my face lit up at the idea. “You have to be home by the time the girls get back from school. D'accordo?”

“D'accordo!” I grinned, and leaped into his arms. “Andiamo...!” I wriggled out of his grasp and started towards the door, but Ronaldo had hold of my wrist.

“Not so fast, amore mio. I said 'you' can go - I won't be joining you.”

“But Ronaldo!” I whined, my shoulders slumping. “Who will carry my bags?”

“You'll have to carry them yourself, cucciola mia . I have work tonight....”

I was outraged at the idea of actually carrying my own things, but Ronaldo was gone by the time I could muster a reply.

Neeve Boudin - The Meeting

2009-06-30T16:36:00.002-04:00

I stepped up to the perpetually scantily-clad secretary, a young girl named Jillian, at Lawrence's front desk.

“I need to speak with Mr. Boudin please.” I asked her.

With a raise of her eyebrow, she got up from her post and pushed open the heavy frosted-glass door leading into Lawrence's private office. I glanced backward quickly and there was Abram, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and looking much more imposing than any Amish man should, whether he's shunned or not. I gave a small smile, and turned back to the desk when the secretary emerged.

The secretary soon emerged, and said in an airy voice, “Mr. Boudin is in a meeting right now.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Tell him it's important.”

“I said, he's in a m....”

“I heard what you said,” I snapped, “Now you go tell Lawrence what I said: it's important.”

She narrowed her eyes, but returned to the office and rejoined us a moment later.

“Mr. Boudin will see you now,” she said with a very unconvincing smile plastered on her face.

“Mmm-hmm,” I said as I turned back towards Abram. “I will be out in a little while.”

“Oh no,” Abram said, shaking his head. “I'm going with you.”

“I agreed to have you come with me, Abe, but I've got to do this part alone. Okay?”

He pondered my words a moment, and reluctantly agreed. “I'll be right here if you need me.”

I nodded, and turned towards Lawrence's office.

'It's now or never,' I thought, and pushed through the door. I entered into Lawrence's lair – a staunch gray brick room with little to no decoration, and my eyes fell on my husband's desk chair – it was turned around, not facing the doorway, but I could see the tip of Lawrence's head. I frowned, thinking 'In a meeting my foot!', but I walked on, until I was less than a foot from the ornate black desk.

“Lawrence,” I said, my tone cool and calm, “we need to talk.”

I could see him shake his head before spinning around to face me.

“What about?” He asked, his hands crossed over his body, his fingertips tapping his knuckles lightly. On the surface he looked apathetic – no real expression on his ashen face - but his eyes held a certain hostility.

I took a breath, and – not feeling quite as anxious as I had anticipated – I began to speak. “I am leaving, Lawrence.”

'Hmm, that wasn't all too difficult.'

The corners of his lips flicked up for a fraction of a second as his eyes narrowed on me. “You only just got here.”

His attempt at humor didn't elicit a response from me. I simply repeated myself, “I'm leaving, Lawrence. I'm leaving you.”

He lowered his eyebrows, but his expression didn't change. He appeared to be calculating something in his head as he stared into space, but he didn't speak.

“This can't be a surprise,” I continued to elaborate, “not with the way things have been lately....”

Still, he didn't respond – he didn't move a fraction of an inch.

“Lawrence?” I asked, eying him suspiciously. I had expected some kind of a reaction. I had expected him to yell, or scream, or... something. “Lawrence.” I repeated, my voice louder this time.

His steely gray eyes met mine, and suddenly I saw it - that look I had become all too familiar with in five simyears of marriage- the look that usually preceded a very bad, very physical fight. I swallowed hard, but didn't move as he stood.

“You're leaving....” He said in a calm voice, pushing his chair back towards the wall. “You're leaving... me?” His last word was obscured by a small chuckle.

“Yes.” I said, my eyes glued to him as he rounded his desk, a disconcerting smile plastered on his full lips.

“Neeve,” he started to say as he come towards me. “You're not leaving me.”

“Y-Yes, I am.” I stuttered, but I didn't relent. “I'm sorry, Lawrence, but I can't stay at the house....”

“You're not understanding me,” Lawrence's voice was less calm now, and I began to see anger contort his face. “You. Are. Not. Leaving.”

As he closed the distance between us, I stepped back. The usual things began to filter through my mind – 'How far away is the door?' and 'Could I get out before he gets to me?'.

“You see, Neeve,” he started again, following me slowly, matching me step for step, “You're being silly. No, that's not even the word. You're being stupid, Neeve. You wouldn't be able to make it out there without me. You have no family. You have no friends. You would fall on your face, and come crawling back. Don't you see? You can skip all that embarrassment, and just stay. It would be a lot less... painful... for both of us.”

Somehow, I didn't believe he really meant it would be less painful for 'us', as I backed up through his office, my muscles tightening as I saw his fists ball.

“Lawrence,” I started, but realized that my voice wasn't the only one in the room saying his name. I glanced backward to see Abram standing at the door, his jaw set in a hard line, his eyes narrowed on my husband. I glanced back at Lawrence, and saw him cock his head. He looked almost amused.

“Perfect timing, Dr. Vogel.” He said with that same slick smile, his fists relaxing. “How is it that you know exactly when it interrupt a conversation. I thought the Amish were supposed to have manners.”

“Come, Neeve.” Abram said, not paying heed to Lawrence's words, but not taking his eyes off him either. “We're leaving.”

“Ah,” Lawrence said with a short laugh, “At least I'll know where to find her then. When I come to bring her home tonight, I mean.”

“She won't be coming home, Lawrence.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Lawrence replied, almost grinning now.

“Come, Neeve.” Abram repeated, and this time I listened. I watched Lawrence out of the corner of my eye as we left the office.

“Bye, Neeve,” He said almost sweetly, “See you tonight, honey.”

Only when the elevator door was closed did I allow myself to shudder. I felt Abram's arm encircle me immediately.

“Ach, Neeve,” he said, pulling me into him, “You needn't worry. You'll be safe at the beach house.”

“Yeah, I know....” I muttered, not sounding quite as sure about that is he did.

---------------------------------------------

With Abram and Neeve gone, Lawrence sank back into his desk chair. He lent back and frowned – he wouldn't let this happen. Where did that woman get the gull to say those things to him? Hadn't he shown her that he was the one calling the shots? His mother always told him that it was a woman's job to cater to her husband, and Neeve, well, she was piss-poor at it. If he couldn't make her understand that she belonged with him, that she belonged to him, well....

Suddenly, he had an idea. Leaning forward he grabbed his phone and dialed the lobby. “Yes, Jillian,” he spoke into the receiver, “get Ronaldo Bernardi on the phone for me.”

A sly smile spread across Lawrence's face as he waited for his secretary to make the connection.

Neeve Boudin - The Beach House

2009-06-20T15:09:00.005-04:00

I stood on the porch of Abram's rather picturesque beach-house, and I realized something – this was going to be my home. For a while, at least. The thought sent shivers up my spine.

I watched as Abram brought my last suitcase up from his SUV, and immediately felt like crying. This was it. Abram would leave, and I would be alone here, at this all-too-beautiful-house... and without my husband.

“Don't fret so, Neeve.” Suddenly Abram was in front of me, his hand on my shoulder. “You look about as white as a ghost.”

A small smile crept to my face. “I'm okay, Abram. Thank you so much for letting me stay here....”

“Ach, don't think on it. You're welcome here.”

A comfortable silence fell between us, and I wrapped my arms around myself. 'For as much as everyone's been telling me that this is the right decision, you would think I'd feel better about it.' I thought, biting my lip.

“Neeve, you're downing me!” Abram smiled, but quickly turned serious. “You will be fine here. Safe, most importantly. What did Lawrence say when you told him you were leaving.”

'...Uh-oh.'

“Neeve?”

“Erm... well... see Abram, I...”

Abram cocked an eyebrow at me. “Neeve? You did tell him, jah?”

I looked down at the worn boards under my feet.

“Ach, Neeve!”

“Abram, I know....” I trailed off, and shook my head. I was just so much easier without having to tell my husband that I was leaving. Not that he wouldn't find out, but even a few precious hours without confrontation sounded good enough to dissuade me from saying anything to him before he left for work that morning.

“You need to tell him.” The tone of Abram's voice left little room for negotiation. “If you're worried about it, you could go to the police after that, get an order to prevent him from coming around....”

“Abram!”

“No, Neeve. I am surprised you haven't already gone. With what he did to your face, I think the police would be hard pressed not to lock him up....”

“No. I just... I'm not going to do that. I'll tell him I'm leaving, but that's it. He won't come around, Abram. This is Lawrence. He's not some crazed lunatic.”

“Those bruises of yours say different.”

I took a deep breath. “No. I won't do it.” I crossed my arms over me, holding them tight to my chest.

Abram sighed, turned around and walked to the other side of the porch, shaking his head. I wasn't stupid – I knew what Lawrence was capable of, but to file a report? Get a restraining order? It was all too much for me to deal with. All I wanted was to get away from that house, and for him to leave me alone.

“Fine,” Abram said after a moment, and walked back towards me. “Fine, Neeve, but I go with you when you tell him.”

“What? Abe, I can handle this...”

“I know you can handle it. But you will take me with you. Just as a precaution.”

“Abram....”

“Neeve.” There was that tone again. I heaved a heavy sigh.

“You use that tone with your kids? That must be why they don't ever act up.”

He cracked a smile. “Jah. Wonderful-gut children I have – mannerlich kinner.” He looked thoughtful a moment, then turned to me with a glint in his eye and said under his breath “It is the tone.”

I smiled, and hugged him. “Thank you, Abram.... well, danke, rather.”

I could feel a laugh rumble though his chest as I held him close. “Jah, Neeve. You are welcome.” He released me from our hug, and said “Now, over to Lawrence's office?”

“Eh, no...”

“Now Neeve....”

“I know, I will. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But when he gets home and you aren't there...”

“He's got a big meeting tonight, he won't be home until the wee hours of the morning, if he decides to come at all. Tomorrow we'll go, okay?”

Abram studied me for a moment, then nodded. “That sounds fine. Well, Miss Neeve, I must go. I need to start looking for a babysitter....”

“What happened to Karen?”

“She isn't able to take the children for more than a few hours, and I'm... well, I'm going out of town for a few days.”

I gasped, “Oh Abram, I could watch the kids.”

“Ach, no. You've had enough excitement lately....”

“No, really, Abram, I wouldn't mind. I'd like it, actually.

“But Anna Mae is out of school for the summer, and Nellie's a handful, and Luke's just getting used to our routine...”

“I don't mind, really! They could keep me company, and Abe? I'm a pediatric nurse. I know how to handle handfuls. And I promise I'll make sure Luke is well taken care of.”

“Well....”

I appealed to his practical side, “It would be easier than interviewing for nannies, wouldn't it?”

Abram sighed. “Jah, it would....” Finally, after a moment, he nodded. “You're sure about this?”

“Jah!” I mimicked him, and he laughed.

“Alright. Danke shoen, Neeve. We'll pick them up tomorrow, after we talk to Lawrence.”

“After I talk to Lawrence.”

He smiled, nodding, and turned back towards his SUV. Despite everything, I smiled too. I love Abram's kids, and was thrilled that I would have company in the old beach house. And despite my protesting, having Abram there when I tell Lawrence that I'm leaving will be a great comfort.

For the first time since I decided to leave my husband, things are finally starting to look up.

Abram Vogel

2009-06-18T23:03:00.003-04:00

Ach, I never thought this would happen. When I left Lancaster, my family and the Amish church, I knew full-well what would happen - Meidung. Shunning. I was under no misapprehension about that. It meant no further contact with my family, my friends, or anyone from my community... at least, that's what it's supposed to mean! And disobeying it is a serious offense, according to the Ordnung, or the rules by which we - or rather, the Amish - live our lives. So you can only imagine my surprise when I answered the phone this evening to hear a ladich-, or tired-sounding voice on the other end.

"Abram?" The woman said, and my spine straightened immediately.

"...Mam?" I answered after a moment, unsure if my ears were decieving me.

"Jah, Abram," came her quiet reply. "Tis me."

I hesitated. After nearly a decade of living modern and not hearing a peep from any of my family, I was a bit ferhoodled, to say the least, at my mother calling on me, on the telephone no less. I said the first thing that came to mind. "Is everything alright, Mam?"

"Ach, no. Abram... yer Dat's died."

Neeve Boudin

2009-06-18T17:09:00.003-04:00

When did this become normal? At what point in my marriage, I wonder to myself sometimes, did this become routine? Or excusable? Why can't Lawrence just yell at me like he used to? And why can't I just keep my big mouth shut?

I know I was asking, nay, begging for it the other night, when I got home from dancing with the others on the Garden Committee and found Lawrence waiting for me in the living room. I just couldn't have kept quiet, I couldn't have just apologized and gone to bed. It wasn't as if I had been drinking – I can't use intoxication as an excuse. I just stood there, smirking and chuckling at him while he bellowed at me about coming home so late, about keeping him waiting about going out with that man.... It wasn't as if I was with just Dean, anyway, but Lawrence wouldn't hear of it....

*sigh* After the fight, Lawrence stormed off into the night, and I... well, I did something stupid. I decided I needed to get out of the house, and -for lack of another place to go- I went to see Dean. I did not even bother to fix myself up before trudging -in a broken high-heel and without my glasses, which lay smashed on my bedroom floor- the four city blocks to Dean's apartment. Boy, by the look on his face when he got there, he would've sooner expected to see the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse knocking at his door at three AM.

I stayed there until sun-up, crying and talking and persuading Dean not to go after Lawrence. I should never have gone over there, though. This is my problem, not his, but talking with him, being with him in general, just makes me feel so... safe.