Becoming Lottie Moon

Chapter One

1847 Viewmont, Virginia

Six-year-old Lottie Moon cupped her hands around her face and pressed into the cold living room window, watching for any movement down the carriage drive of Viewmont Plantation. It was getting late, and Father wasn’t supposed to return from his business trip for another day, but sometimes he came home early. And he always brought books with him to further stuff the family’s library shelves. In the dark night, Lottie couldn’t see much of her family’s fifteen-hundred acres. Most of it sprawled behind the house, where the slaves’ cabins stood beside miles of tobacco and cornfields. Lottie fixed her gaze forward. Her nose touched the window. If Father arrived soon, maybe she could hear a story from his travels before bed. One day, she would go far away and bring home stories of her adventures just like Father.

Orianna, get away from that freezing window, Grandmother Harris bellowed from the sofa. 

Lottie whirled around. Before she could correct her, her twelve-year-old sister, Orie, spoke without looking up from untying a bag of new marbles. That’s Lottie, not me. 

Grandmother peered at Lottie with a puzzled look. Oh, yes. Well, come away from there, child. 

Orie dumped the marbles onto the floor while Tom, the eldest of her brothers and sisters, laid a string circle around them. 

Ike, the third oldest, walked over from the fireplace and sat cross-legged beside the marble circle. Why can’t they be in a cross like normal?

Because I’m setting up this round, that’s why. Orie glared at her brother. Knuckle down and play or leave us alone.

Ike mumbled something about just asking a question.

Lottie heaved a sigh and pulled her heavy robe tight around her white nightgown. She obediently crossed the parlor and sat on the floor with her siblings. A crackling fire kept the large room warm as a March wind howled outside. Gilded mirrors and landscapes of the Wild West decorated the walls, along with portraits of family from the past, staring down on the current generation of Moons. The portraits hung so high, it seemed that they presided in judgment from heaven. Lottie avoided eye contact with them.

Everyone chose their shooter, and Lottie scooted toward the pile of marbles. As she bent low, she brushed away a lock of brown hair from her face. Aiming with her mouth and one eye open, Lottie flicked her yellow-swirled shooter toward the other colorful orbs. They clacked when they hit each other, then silently rolled across the soft red-patterned rug all in different directions. Lottie grinned as the swirls inside the glass spun.

Mother’s silk dress rustled as she came and rested a hand on one of the high-back chairs between the cozy sofa and the smaller settee. The tips of her long silver dress brushed the rug. When she offered a bedtime story in the girls’ room, Lottie scrambled up and ran toward the stairs, careful to avoid any stray marbles that might trip her and ruin her victory.

She looked back over her shoulder and saw Orie close behind her. Ike hopped from one marble to the next, collecting each one into the drawstring leather pouch. Tom calmly rose from his seat. Lottie would win for sure.

She didn’t really have a reason to beat her sister and brothers to the bedroom she and Orie shared. Each of them had long ago laid claim to their favorite spots for Mother’s story times, so no one was likely to steal Lottie’s place. And yet, she raced up the steps and down the hall. 

Lottie rushed in through the doorway and plopped down onto the braided rug near the rocker, jostling the chair’s small cushion. The rug was just as thick as the one in the parlor but nowhere near as soft. Still, Mother said it was special because women who lived years ago had made it by braiding scrap fabrics together. On their own, those scraps could never be what they are now together, Mother had said. 

Her older siblings filed in. Orie lay down and settled her head on top of the extra blankets hanging neatly over the foot of her carved wooden bed. Ike sat on the floor and leaned against Orie’s bed. Tom stretched across the rug and propped his head up with his fists, cushioning his elbows with a pillow.

Mother walked in carrying a book about Adoniram and Ann Judson. As she settled onto the rocker, Lottie scooted closer. She loved this story about missionaries who had sailed for India thirty-five years ago.

Mother propped the book up on her lap and read from where she’d left off last night. ‘The government officials received their orders: the foreigners had to go.’ She glanced up and met the eyes of all four children. ‘The young missionaries had been evangelizing and baptizing in the area for less than a year, but the message of Jesus was bringing too much change. The missionaries were not welcome any longer.’

Lottie had heard this story several times but did not understand what the officials didn’t like about Jesus. In Bible stories, he only did nice things. Jesus was harmless.

Mother’s focus returned to the page. ‘Men banged on the door of the small missionary home, yelling in the local language, Open up!’

Mother’s shout jolted Ike, and he bumped his head against Orie’s footboard. Orie giggled. Mother smiled and continued.

Some of the stories Mother read at night were so boring that Lottie fell asleep right there on the floor, needing to be scooped up and carried to her bed. But she thoroughly enjoyed adventure stories like this one.

Lottie hugged her knees up to her chin as Mother shared about this couple who had rejected their boring lives and crossed vast oceans, traveled to distant lands, and blazed through dangerous jungles, even though the Judsons’ relatives wanted them to do the same things their parents and grandparents did before them. What gumption they had, to go against the rules like that. If only she could escape from the ones imposed on her—like sitting still in church and behaving properly when Grandmother Harris was around. Lottie wanted a life of freedom and adventure, and she was determined to have it one day.

‘After Adoniram and Ann were banished from proclaiming God’s message in India, they and their partners left, settling in the land called Burma. This is where God had called them to preach now, and this is where He would provide a harvest.’

Mother, where is Burna? Ike asked. 

"It’s Bur-ma, dear, and it’s east of India, near China."

That’s where Uncle James and Aunt Julia want to be missionaries! Lottie dropped her knees and sat up straight, lifting her chin.

That’s right. Mother smiled at Lottie. But because it upsets your grandmother, you all know not to mention it around her, right?

She locked eyes with each of them until every head nodded.

As far back as Lottie could remember, Grandmother Harris spoke her mind whenever the adults quarreled about things. Lately, even the mention of anything unpleasant set her crying or yelling. Mother reminded the children often about which things were best left unsaid.

Mother continued reading. "‘Although Ann’s heart broke for the lost souls in India, she believed in the good Lord’s sovereign direction and focused her prayers on the new group of people around her. She prayed, Dispel the darkness over Burma, oh thou radiant Light of the world. May thy brilliance radiate, revealing thy goodness and might to the people of Burma. Win their hearts and make them thy favored ones.’"

Mother closed the book. That’s a good place to end for tonight.

Tom stood and released a yawn as he stretched with both arms. He and Ike shuffled out of the room and down the hall. Lottie rubbed her eyes as she tottered over to her bed. Orie flipped over to her side and slid under the covers.

As Mother started to close the door, Orie said, I have a question.

Orie often asked Mother questions right before bed so she would stay just a little longer.

Mother sighed quietly, crossed the room, and sat beside Orie.

Why didn’t Mr. and Mrs. Judson go somewhere nice when they had to leave India?

Mother’s dark eyebrows rose at the genuine question. They went where they thought God wanted them to go.

Why did he want them to go to such an awful place?

Lottie’s once-restful mind, ready for sleep, now raced with thoughts about Orie’s question. The Judsons found adventure in India, but they also found danger. Would Lottie be brave enough to face danger in her adventures one day?

Burma isn’t an awful place. Although life there was challenging. Sometimes when we follow God … he asks us to do things that aren’t very easy.

Orie’s brow furrowed, and she rubbed her forehead.

Every other time Mother had told them that story, she read that Mrs. Judson got a terrible disease in Burma and died. How would Mother explain that it was good that they followed God there?

Remember our Psalm from last week? Mother’s brown eyes brightened as she leaned closer to Orie. ‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me.’

Lottie remembered. If she had to pick a favorite Psalm, it would be that one. The green pastures and still waters made her think of Viewmont. And she liked to imagine trekking through a rocky valley full of sharp ridges and creepy shadows.

God leads us to good things, even when the path looks scary and dangerous. Mother smiled. We don’t have to fear anything because he is always with us.

Such a mysterious answer! But it seemed to be all they were going to get for now. Mother kissed Orie and Lottie, then left the room.

Thoughts of the Judsons and Burma collided with thoughts of Uncle James and Aunt Julia sailing to the mission field in China. After several minutes of not sleeping, she whispered, You awake?

Orie rolled over to face Lottie.

Is China a hard place to live? Lottie asked.

Maybe, Orie answered drowsily. Uncle James says God wants them to go there. So it probably isn’t very nice.

Panic swelled in Lottie’s chest. Uncle James said God wanted him to be a missionary, just like the Judsons. Do you think Aunt Julia will die in China?

Grandmother won’t let them go, Orie said mid-yawn. She is much scarier than God.

Orie rolled over, and Lottie relaxed. Thanks to Grandmother, Uncle James and Aunt Julia would stay safe at home. Lottie pulled her blanket up closer to her chin and snuggled in for a good night’s sleep.

But a tinge of sadness came to her heart at the thought of her aunt and uncle missing out on adventures that would never happen as long as Grandmother had a say in it.

Anna Moon peeked into the nursery to check on Sallie. She smiled as the four-year-old’s tummy slowly rose and fell. Perhaps Sallie would ask hard questions like Orie someday, but for now, she was simple to manage. Anna blew a kiss and closed the door.

Another day done, and everyone’s accounted for. She sighed. Well, almost everyone.

Edward was still in Louisiana, but he would be home by the end of next week. Although she was used to him going away to meet with his trading partners, managing five children and the Viewmont estate alone was a lot of work. She could hardly wait to see her husband’s carriage coming up the road.

Stepping softly down the stairs, she wrapped her arms around the book and held it with the front cover close to her chest. The title would certainly provoke her mother, who was in the parlor by the library.

She winced when the old wood creaked beneath her. She should have known. That step always gave her children away when they tried to sneak around the house at night.

Anna, is that you? Mother called out.

The woman may be growing weaker, but her hearing was as sharp as ever.

Yes, Mother. I’ve just put the children to bed.

Please come here.

I’ll be right there. Anna quickened her pace down the last couple of steps and hurried past the parlor toward the library.

I need you now! Mother barked. My blanket has slipped off again, and I’m freezing in this drafty room.

Her mother hadn’t always barked. She’d never been overly soft or empathetic, but she usually spoke more kindly to her daughter and grandchildren. Lately, she had become demanding about the tiniest problems. And she occasionally mixed up the family’s names.

Anna stopped at the parlor doorway, glanced up to the heavens, and pleaded for divine help before entering the room. As she reached down to pick up the blanket off the floor, Mother gasped.

What is that? She pointed to the book as if she’d just caught a child holding stolen candy.

It’s a bedtime story for the children. Anna clutched the blanket in her hand.

Before her mother could stress herself into a fit, Anna took a deep breath, laid the blanket over her mother’s lap, and knelt beside her. I loved the stories you read to me as a girl. Do you remember?

Her eyes misted. Yes.

After Anna’s father had died when she was an infant, Mother crumbled under the sudden pressure to run the house and the business. She sold both and sent Anna’s older siblings—Tom, Mary, and James—to move in with other relatives. She kept only Anna. By the time they all lived under the same roof again, Tom and Mary said they were too old for bedtime stories, but Anna enjoyed cuddling with James and Mother around a book.

I read from the Bible and books about missionaries. Mother’s eyebrows furrowed. That was a mistake. If I hadn’t read those stories, James wouldn’t have developed such an obsession with missions that he wanted to leave us.

Anna set the book on the floor and pushed it under the sofa, out of sight. She would re-shelve it in the morning. She tucked the warm blanket around her mother’s knees and kissed her cheek.

Anna considered trying to lift Mother off the sofa, help her up the stairs, and settle her into her own bed, which was far more comfortable to sleep in. But her mother was old and the hour was late. Forcing a journey from where she was now didn’t seem worth the time and effort, not to mention the inevitable grumbling.

James is happy he stayed here, isn’t he? Mother asked softly.

Very happy.

Good. There’s no need for people like us to go off to China. He could easily obey God’s call here. And if he had to leave home, there are more than enough heathens out West. Not to mention those wayward Christians up North, what with their spiritualism and Mormonism and other such nonsense.

Yes, Mother. Anna had heard these justifications before. She didn’t challenge them.

If he had gone to China, he wouldn’t have come home, Grandmother went on, as if trying to answer accusations that only she could hear.

Anna put a reassuring hand on Mother’s shoulder. Why don’t you rest your eyes a bit? I’ll be back in a few minutes with pillows.

As she left the room, her mother muttered, I didn’t stop him from marrying a Presbyterian or joining her church. And then they say they want to move to China. No one should expect a mother to stand for that. And if Anna keeps reading those stories to my grandchildren, the same thing will happen to her.

By the time Anna came back with an armload of spare pillows, Mother had fallen asleep. Anna gently tucked them behind her head and under her arms.

Why was Mother so concerned about James’s happiness all of a sudden? She didn’t show concern for it ten years ago when he and Julia told the family they felt called to missionary work in China. Maybe as Mother was nearing the end of her life, she regretted things in her past. If only James would come see her and assure her that all was well.

James and Julia lived in the bustling town of Scottsville, not ten miles away, but they hadn’t been over, not even for supper, since New Year’s. Their apothecary business kept them busy, they said. And traveling in the winter was wearisome. But James needed to visit soon, before it was too late.

Mother stirred, turned her head, then settled back into sleep. Anna’s heart constricted. If Mother was approaching her last days, would a conversation with James disturb her? Then again, she wasn’t at peace now.

Perhaps a simple family meal would be what they all needed. She could invite Mary and her family to join them. If no one mentioned anything about missionaries or China, they could all enjoy a peaceful time together. As long as everyone cooperated and behaved themselves, it should work.

Unfortunately, cooperating and behaving weren’t strong traits in the Moon family.

Chapter Two

1847

The following Sunday, Lottie carefully fastened the buttons on her navy dress with a white collar. Orie was flattening the lace on her collar when Mother walked in.

Stop dawdling, girls. She spoke loudly without quite yelling, her attempt to keep the Sabbath holy. Your father, brothers, and sister are all at the wagons with the servants.

Lottie lifted and looked under a bonnet on top of her dresser and Oliver Twist that Orie had read aloud last night. She dug through her dresser drawers. I can’t find my navy hair ribbon. Mother always said it was important for them to look their best at church. And since they sat close to the front, Lottie’s hair ribbon was what most people would see when they looked at her.

You can borrow mine. Orie handed Lottie a dark green silk ribbon.

But this doesn’t match my dress!

Mother grabbed the ribbon. The green looks nice with your hair. She quickly arranged it into Lottie’s chestnut curls. You should be grateful we have a church to drive to each week. Before you were born, since your father wasn’t a Baptist yet, I had to hold services at home most Sundays.

Lottie had heard the stories many times. Pine Grove Baptist Church was a small country church near Viewmont that only met once a month. When Pine Grove was closed, Mother gathered the family and the slaves downstairs to listen as she read from the Word.

You are fortunate to worship in a beautiful, brick chapel and hear from a seminary-trained pastor. Mother finished primping Lottie’s hair with a gentle tug on the bow.

Lottie didn’t feel fortunate. She dreaded going to church. But the carriage ride down the country roads was surely better than sitting in the parlor listening to Mother’s Bible lessons.

The three of them waved goodbye to Grandmother on their way downstairs.

The rest of the family waited in the covered carriage. Mother joined Father up front. Orie hopped in the back with their siblings. Lottie stepped up and glanced behind her.

The slaves crowded in plain, open buckboard wagons. Lottie waved at Peggy in the wagon right behind the family’s carriage. She smiled back. A year older than Lottie, Peggy squeezed between her parents, George and Fannie. Fannie licked her thumb, then used it to smooth down Peggy’s tight curls. 

Shoulda used more bacon grease, Fannie said.

Despite her efforts, little ringlets sprang out around Peggy’s braids like a halo.

Peggy put on her plain bonnet, undoubtedly to protect her hair from further attention from her mother. She grabbed the tattered, faded shawl that Lottie’s mother and father had given her three Christmases ago and wrapped it around her shoulders. Back then it was thick and a rich brown color.

Mother snapped her fingers at Lottie. Get in. Don’t gawp at the servants.

Servants—that’s what Mother always told her and her siblings to call them. But Lottie knew they were different than the servants in Oliver Twist. The servants at Viewmont weren’t free, and they never would be. It wasn’t fair.

Lottie climbed in and scooted across the cushioned bench next to Orie. Father snapped the reins, and they all headed for Scottsville Baptist Church. 

Along the way, Father told them about the early-blooming wildflowers they passed. He grinned as he talked, handsome in his dark wool suit. Later in the spring, he would probably point out the leafy sprouts in various fields like he did last year and quiz Lottie and her siblings about what crops they would grow to be.

Mother leaned over to speak to Father. Lottie strained to hear what they said.

After the service, Mother murmured as she rested her head on Father’s shoulder, I’d like to stop by the Disciples Church and speak to James for a moment.

If only Lottie’s aunt and uncle would join the family in their pew at Scottsville Baptist. Mother and Father had helped found the church and fund the building before Lottie was born. But Uncle James had joined the Disciples of Christ. He build the pews and the pulpit for their church on Main Street. He even preached there sometimes.

We’ll wait to drive home until you walk over there and get back. Father clutched the reins in one hand and moved the other to Mother’s back. Do you need help with anything?

No, I’ve just got a question for him.

What question did Mother have that was too urgent for a letter? Maybe Lottie could walk with Mother to the Disciples’ church and find out.

Uncle James and Aunt Julia didn’t visit Viewmont near as often as Lottie wanted them to. Her cousins were such fun to play with, and Uncle James could turn a plain conversation into an interesting argument like no one else could. Lottie didn’t fully understand a lot of the things he said, but she could tell by the way Father and Aunt Julia suddenly found great interest in their shoes or a wall ornament that they were things Uncle James wasn’t supposed to say around Grandmother. Mother often shushed her brother, and Grandmother lifted her chin and threw her shoulders back as if ready for battle.

Maybe that explained why the two families went to different churches.

Aunt Julia had been a Presbyterian before she became a Disciple of Christ, and she had a lot of family who were Baptists. All that experience surely made her an expert on religious things. Lottie had once asked her why everyone fought about God and church. She told Lottie that people often fight about the things they love, especially when they see them in different ways. The only difference Lottie had noticed was that the Baptist pastor dismissed the congregation several minutes earlier than the Disciples got to leave their service.

When they reached Scottsville Baptist, everyone climbed out of the wagons and headed up the grassy hill for the church. Lottie paused before she reached the doors. The church sat higher than the rest of the town. Streets of houses, churches, and shops sprawled in every direction. Uncle James’s church was on a smaller hill across from the canal basin where yawl boats and small boats went through along the James River.

Mother tapped Lottie’s shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. Time to go inside.

Lottie followed her family into the sanctuary. They walked toward their pew near the front. The slaves took the steps up to the balcony.

Lottie looked back and saw Peggy remove her bonnet and shawl as she chatted with another dark-skinned girl. The balcony was always crowded. Must be cozy on chilly mornings. But summer Sundays had everyone in the balcony sweating, the women fluttering their paper fans as fast as they could.

It’s not polite to stare, Mother whispered.

Lottie took her seat at the end of the pew between Orie and the aisle.

When the music started, Lottie stood to sing. When it stopped, she sat up straight and faced forward so she would look engaged even though the service rarely broke through the distractions in her head.

Today’s sermon proved mildly interesting, though. Pastor Fox read from the Gospel of Matthew, then talked about a narrow gate that led to everlasting life and a wide gate that led to destruction. Lottie’s hands became clammy when he talked about sin—the bad things that kept people from God.

Jesus is this narrow gate. Pastor Fox flashed a tight-lipped smile so big that his eyes nearly shut behind his oval spectacles. He is the only way to heaven. We need to forsake our sins that Jesus died to defeat.

Amens murmured from the congregation.

So let each one of us follow him faithfully. Come up now if you wish to follow Jesus. Pastor Fox invited sinners up to the altar in front of his pulpit.

Lottie’s heart pounded as she stood with the congregation to sing the last song for the morning. She felt something pulling her to make her way forward and kneel at that altar as she had seen so many others do. If the pastor was right about God and sin, Lottie was guilty.

Her muscles tightened, and she was sure everyone in the room was looking at her. She jolted when Orie elbowed her and giggled, nodding toward an old man on the other side of the aisle who remained seated as his head bobbed forward and back. Lottie gripped the pew in front of her and planted her feet.

When the song ended and the congregation sat down, relief rushed over her along with something else. Regret?

Pastor Fox closed the service with a prayer of blessing. The moment he said amen, Mother quickly stood and scooted out of the pew. Was she going to the altar to repent? As Mother hurried toward the door, Lottie realized what she was up to.

Lottie gasped. I want to go too. But before she could return the hymnal to the pew rack, Mother was halfway out the door. Lottie’s stomach dropped. Her chin quivered, and tears brimmed in her eyes. Mother left without her. After that sermon, Lottie wanted to run away from the church and away from her thoughts. Now she had to stay and wait with the crowd of parishioners gathering their belongings and chatting with friends. She struggled to smile as though everything was okay.

Anna scurried down Harrison Street and around the corner to Main Street. Pastor Fox didn’t usually keep them that long. He’d stretched the invitation time as if trying to draw someone to the front. The sermon was good, but no one went up to get saved today.

When she arrived at the Disciples Church, everyone was scattered across the small lawn or sitting on the large steps, exchanging recipes and stories. There were more people than usual. The church must be growing. If she didn’t find James soon, she’d delay the family’s journey back home and, more important, their lunch.

Thankfully, her brother was tall and not difficult to find in a crowd. She spotted him at the top of the steps with Julia, smiling sweetly under a bonnet that was adorned with a tiny sprig of white wildflowers.

She walked up to them with a smile.

Anna! James opened his arms for a hug. Even on a Sunday morning, his hair stuck out as though he had just been exploring a wild wood. It’s good to see you. 

Anna relished his hug, then pulled away and straightened her bonnet. Edward’s back home from his Louisiana trip. I think it’s high time the family all gathered for a visit. Could you all come to Viewmont sometime soon?

Uh, well, I— James shifted his gaze around as if looking for an escape.

Come on Easter Monday and stay a few days. We’ll make a holiday celebration of it. I’ll invite Mary over for a day too.

James and Julia silently communicated with their eyes.

I know prolonged visits with Mother aren’t always pleasant or peaceful. But she hasn’t been well, and she’s been asking me about you. I know she’d love to see you both.

James cocked an eyebrow. What do you mean she hasn’t been well?

She’s been having more outbursts lately.

Sounds like Mother to me, James said with a frown.

She gets confused a lot too. She just … hasn’t been herself. Anna wrung her hands, praying they would understand the importance of her request.

We’ll be happy to come. Julia patted Anna’s arm. It will be good for the children to see everyone.

James cleared his throat. We need to gather the children.

Anna gave her sister-in-law a hug. Thank you. She embraced her brother again. Enjoy your Sunday. See you soon!

Anna fairly skipped back to Scottsville Baptist, where she found the family all seated in the carriage. She joined Edward and kissed his cheek. Then she looked at her other children over her shoulder. You’re all going to see your Uncle James and Aunt Julia soon!

Everyone but Edward cheered. So that’s what you asked them. And they said yes?

Of course. Anna spoke more confidently than she felt.

Edward chuckled. Should be interesting.

Back at Viewmont, Anna started planning for the big family Easter celebration. Tomorrow she would walk to Mary’s house and invite her family to join them. Lottie and Orie will be happy to see Mary’s son, their cousin Jimmy.

This was going to be a wonderful occasion. Surely, no one would argue while celebrating their risen Savior.

Chapter Three

1847

Lottie and Orie lounged on the green velvet chairs in the library, reading their books and watching their mother through the doorway. All morning, Mother had been rushing back and forth, directing the slaves as they prepared for the visiting family. Lottie and Orie did their best to stay out of the way.

Having finished her book, Lottie crossed the room to the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves lining two adjoining walls. After returning the volume to its proper place, she ran her fingers over spines of soft cloth and cool leather. Volumes of Shakespeare’s writing and other classics beckoned to her, eager to be discovered.

Father nearly collided with Mother as she hurried down the hallway in her cleaning frenzy. With a chuckle, he ducked into the library and caught a blue pamphlet from falling off the top of a small stack of books he was carrying. Picked up a new Dickens. He held up the pamphlet, which looked like the latest issue of a serial novel.

Orie popped up from her chair and grabbed it, smiling as she gazed at the cover. "Dombey and Son. I can’t wait to read it!"

She went back to her chair and dumped the novel she had been reading onto the floor, adding to the pile of books beside her. Within seconds, she buried her nose into the new story.

Father deposited most of the other new books onto various shelves, then tucked the last one under his arm. It was small, covered in brown leather, and had the title debossed with gold letters. The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. 

What’s that one? Lottie pointed to the book.

Nothing you need to worry about. Father took it to his study. That was where he kept books that were off limits to Lottie and her siblings. Which, of course, only piqued her interest