Free Fireflies and Magnolias by Ava Miles Page A

always been fun. Outrageous, sure, but harmless. At least with J.P.’s younger sisters.
    “What are you thinking visually?”
    The tea was ready when she checked again so she poured it into the cup and added lemon and honey. The first sip was sheer delight.
    “The crew who shoots Rye’s music videos will do the spots. I haven’t followed up with Clayton yet, but I don’t think it should be a question and answer format. I think it would be more powerful if they just narrated their stories, including photos from their lives.”
    “Yes, it personalizes a difficult subject,” she said, happy to hear they were thinking along the same lines. “I was thinking I could assemble a collage as a digital backdrop for the concert. It wouldn’t be up the whole time, of course, but maybe it can be shown for a song or two after he talks about the topic? Rye and Clayton can figure out the timing.”
    Amelia Ann started writing down notes on her legal pad. “I like it. Go on.”
    She took a deep breath before continuing. “What I’m envisioning is pretty…well, ballsy, but I can’t stomach the idea of watering down this topic. Domestic violence involves brutality, and I want to showcase both the reality and desolation of abuse and the radiance and strength of the survivors. I figure if the women can talk about the abuse they suffered, maybe they’ll agree to share pictures of what they looked like after being hit—as well as now.”
    Amelia Ann’s brow was knit now, and Susannah paused. “Are you flat-out appalled by my idea?”
    “I’m not appalled,” her friend said thoughtfully, her hands gripping her coffee cup now. “You’re right. We want to achieve the maximum impact here. But I won’t lie to you. It will cause some controversy, make some people uncomfortable.”
    “The best art always does,” Susannah added, feeling the anxious pulse of her heart. “Do you think the women will agree to be represented that way?”
    She took her time answering. “I think most will. They want the full truth to be known.”
    Didn’t her mama always say telling the truth was the only way to be free? “We’d need photos from the women featured, but I don’t think we should limit it to three. The concert backdrops I’ve seen are huge. Perhaps we can include all the women who submitted their stories for the feature—if they’re willing to share the photos, of course. That way we aren’t excluding anyone’s triumph. And it goes without saying that we’d only accept women who are now in healthy situations.”
    “I love it! I’ll speak with the heads of the women’s shelters in town to secure their support,” Amelia Ann said eagerly, scribbling frantically now. “We’d need a legal release for the photos, but we can handle that.”
    “Wonderful,” she said with relief, tracing the rim of her cup as her mind assembled the photos she imagined receiving. A uniform color for the backgrounds would add to the effect. Her mind was already buzzing with ideas, her heart thumping in excitement—like they always did when she was jazzed about a new project. She jumped when Amelia Ann seized her hand.
    “This is going to be awesome. We’re going to make such a difference with this concert, Susannah.”
    A drooling toddler she’d been making eyes at earlier streaked away from his mama and made a beeline for Susannah. She gave the blond cherub a grin, fighting the urge to run her hand through his curls. She had to be careful with other people’s kids. They loved her. All kids seemed to. But some parents were fearful of strangers.
    “Hey there, sweetie. Did you escape from your mama?” she asked as the little guy laid a hand on her leg.
    “Up,” the boy demanded, holding out his arms.
    “I’m so sorry,” his mama said as she ran up behind him. She scooped the little one up into her arms. “Howie, you mustn’t run away from mama.”
    “Pretty,” he replied, pointing at Susannah.
    And oh, if that didn’t charm her.