Funny How Things Work Out - Audrey DeBarbarak & Joe Devereaux

Audrey sat in the little dressing room at the back of the church, soaking up a brief solitary moment. She'd been flanked by sims the entire morning, and there was little she could use more than a moment of peace.

A gentle knock at the door roused her from her thoughtful reverie. Her bridesmaids entered, both resplendent and beaming. Sunday Thomason was the woman who Audrey thought of as the ringleader of their little group after her quick thinking over The Loose Button Incident that morning. Her calm, sweet demeanor was a welcome relief. "It's beautiful out there, Audie. You're beautiful. It'll be great, really it will."

Audie's maid of honor, Avery Monroe, stepped up to hug her. "Thanks so much, Ave," Audie said quietly, hugging her friend tightly. "You're the best."

It was a packed house - Audrey's family and Joe's filled the pews. Candles and flowers everywhere - Audrey couldn't have hoped for a prettier setting. Or a more handsome groom. Joe stood at the front of the church, watching her make the traditional march down the aisle. Tradition may not have involved the growing bump the bride sported, but they had gone through great pains to make sure everything else was. Joe's mother, Missus Devereaux, should've been happy about that, Audie thought as she passed the old woman sitting beside Joe's sister in the pew. She finally made it up to him, giving him a look that plainly said, "Phew!". He gave her a wink, and the ceremony began.

Audrey's mom looked on with tears in her eyes, clutching Frank's hand tightly. "My baby," she murmured as her little girl exchanged vows with Joe. Audrey's Aunt Kelsey dabbed at her eyes, and grinned from the bride's side of the church.

When the time came, Audrey took a deep breath, and stated as calmly as she could, "I, Audrey Hera DeBarbarak, take you, Joseph Brossard Devereaux, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day forward, until death do us part."

"I, Joseph Brossard Devereaux, take you, Audrey Hera DeBarbarak, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day forward, until death do us part." Audie felt a tingle run up her spine as he smiled down at her, sliding the ring onto her finger.

Even Joe's mother and sister cracked smiles at some time during the ceremony, despite their misgivings about the union.

Audie stood with Avery and Sunday, and Joe stood with Nikolaj and Norm, in front of their family and friends.

When the time came, Joe leaned down, and told Audrey quietly, "See? Nothin' to it." She laughed, for the first time in what seemed like an age, and he kissed her, their first kiss as man and wife.

Audrey had to sigh with relief when they made it to the reception. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Her mom sat at a table, catching up with her oldest and dearest friend, Audrey's Aunt Kelsey, who had come in from Port Manteau especially for the event. Even Missus (or, as she was now, Momma) Devereaux seemed to be having a, well, tolerable time.

Toasts were made and dinner was devoured.

Couples took to the dance floor. BriAnna, as mother of the bride, was still walking on clouds as Frank led her out to the dance floor.

Audrey's brother Gabriel and Avery's sister Amelie enjoyed, ahem, catching up...

As did Avery with Leander Snow.

Couples paired off - Sunday and Logan White tore up the dance floor; Joe's sister Lucia found herself in the arms of her brother's old Army buddy Nikolaj; and Audrey danced with her brand new husband.

[Oh goodness, this update took me long enough to post! Better late than never, I suppose, and better with poor quality pictures than none... right? Blogger seems to hate my pictures, but I didn't have the strength to upload them to Photobucket and import them like I normally do. Ah, well! Audie's living in wedding bliss - or is she? - and Joe's still working through his feelings for her, and for his ex. Stay tuned!]

Burnout - Jimmie Page & Leander Snow

"Yeah, Ashur, yeah. That's great, that's... great."

"Jimmie," she could hear her manager sigh amongst the crackling of the phone line, "You're not grasping the magnitude of this! The numbers are back, your tour was one of the most well received in SimNation this decade! This decade, Jimmie! Every single show was sold out, and the public is clamoring for more! Not to mention Distastrophe was at number one again this week...."



Jimmie examined her nails as Ashur went on. It wasn't so terribly long ago that any bit of the news he was telling her would have sent her over the moon with excitement. Now it was all she could do to muster some form of positivity.

"No, really, that's great, Ashur," she said at the first opportunity. "And I'll get back in the studio just as soon as... just as soon as I can. All right?"

"Well it's gotta be soon, Jimmie, we've got to strike while the iron's hot!"

"All right, Ashur...."

"One week, Jimmie. Take a week off, then get back to the studio." It wasn't hard to miss the finality in his voice. "You're not the only one working hard here, Jimmie. Take me, for instance. I never stop trying to get your name out there, get you the best gigs and the best contracts. And Nicky, he works night and day on promotional marketing. He's got your own website in the works, you know, in addition to everything else. And Lucia! Look how hard she works to keep you looking good. We're all working for you, and with you, Jimmie. The least you can do is try to muster a little bit of enthusiasm for your work."

'But what if I don't want all of those things done for me?' Jimmie wondered, but couldn't verbalize it. "Yeah," she agreed finally, "I know. I'm sorry, Ashur. I know ya'll work hard, and, uh... I'll get back to the studio next week."



"Good." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Then we can discuss your next tour. We want to get you out again this spring, we're thinking late April, early May. But, one thing at a time!"

Hanging up the phone, Jimmie sighed. Success was an amazing thing, exhilarating and incredibly gratifying, but it was far from freeing. Long gone were the days of singing in smoky bars and tiny clubs, hitch-hiking with her bandmates Jhonnie and Oatsie from show to show, and being without obligations and expectations. She started out making music because it was fun, it was freeing and because she was good. Now she was making music because... because it was expected?

Her passion was still there -- she felt it every time she stepped on stage in front of a roaring crowd. But that's the only thing that kept her going. Hours in the studio, trying to hit just the right notes, to give just the sound Ashur and the others wanted; giving interviews to reporters who asked the same questions, over and over again; touring every few months, in venues where the crowd is so vast and so far away, under lights so bright, she could barely see the faces of those in the front row. And isn't that why she started? To see the reactions of sims in the crowd? To see them listening to her, hearing her lyrics and finding some part of themselves there?

Almost without realizing it, she dialed the number of the one person who
reminded her why she started singing in the first place.

______

Across town, despite the late hour, Leander was still in the studio, belting out the chorus of 'Get Up, Get Out'. It was his first acoustic recording session. Ashur said it would be a great way to show of his vocal range, but Ashur was no where to be seen. In fact, being so late, it was only Leander left in the studio, with his trusty techie counterpart who was dutifully in the control room.



"... So I've gotta
Get up, get out!
I can't stand how it feels,
To be livin' a lie
When I can't even steal
A glance from you.
Now it's all I can do
To get up, get out,
Get away from you...."

His voice broke, on the last note.

"One more time from the bridge?" Asked the voice of the woman behind the mixer, but Leander shook his head.

"Nah, mate. Gimme five minutes." Leander wandered out and grabbed a bottle of water, swigging it down. He'd been there about five hours working on three songs, and had anticipated getting to work on a few from his new album. His voice just wasn't working with him that day.

He was wondering with some level concern if he'd managed to strain his vocal cords, or something equally unfortunate, when the phone rang.



"'Lo?"

"I knew you'd be there. I didn't even bother trying your home phone this time."

Leander grinned. "Ah, g'day, Jim! How are ya, darl?"

"Peachy cream," she grumbled, "How about you? Working hard?"

"You know it," he grinned. "Christ, girlie, I don't think I've slept in a week, but it's a good kind of exhaustion, ya know? Imagine what a beaut of an album I'll have, if I keep workin' at this rate."

"Are you any closer to getting it done?"

"Well, not yet, but once I get through with this acoustic bit Ashur wanted, I'll get ter work on it."

"Unless he tosses in a tour in between now and then."

"Oh, that'd be amazin'! I tell ya, Jim, I'd jump off the Sydney Harbour Bridge if Ashur asked me to. The man knows what he's doin'!

"Yeah, he does. And after that last tour, it won't be long until you're headlining on your own. Just look at the reaction you got in Apple Valley! I've never seen a crowd that hyped."

A grin spread itself across Leander's face. "We sure duxed it, Jim."



"We what?"

"Duxed it! You know, topped it, rocked it, did well. Am I speaking a different language here?"

"Um, yeah, actually!"

Leander grinned at the sound of her laugh, something she didn't seem to do often. He glanced back at the mixing board, and took another gulp of water. "Well, I best get goin' Jim. Is there somethin' in particular ya needed?"

"Nope," he heard her say lightly, "You actually told me exactly what I needed to hear. Good luck tonight, and don't overwork yourself. You haven't been around long enough to develop burnout."

"No worries about that, mate. How can you get burned out doin' somethin' you love?"

He waited a moment, listening to the silence on the end of the line, before he heard her say in a strained voice, "Yeah. Good night, Leander."

"G'night Jim."

Mount Branyon Campus Tour

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

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

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

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.