Reflections on the Thirteenth Week of Fall – Christmas Stranger 

    Wednesday evening, I opened the passenger door to Peggie's new Buick SUV and slid onto the seat. “Ooooh! Toasty,” I said before saying hi or thanks for driving me to the quilt guild Christmas party.

    She laughed. “I turned the passenger seat heater on when I left home.”

    Sirius XM Radio played Christmas music from the fifties and sixties.

    Spence, who'd followed me out of the log house, stood by Peggie's window.

    She opened it for him.

    “You girls be careful and have fun.”

    “We will,” we said in unison.

    “You'll never get her out of the car with the Christmas music on,” he whispered to Peggie. “She loves Christmas music.”

    Spence walked to the house, and Peggie backed out of the driveway.

     “You look nice in your red coat,” I said.

    “Thanks. I brought my down coat in case it gets too cold for this one.” She turned the steering wheel and headed up West Creek Road. “I want to stop at the store on the way home. I have to buy lettuce to make a salad for a party Friday, and I don't want to go out tomorrow. The weather's supposed to be horrible.”

    Horrible weather had kept me from a Jane Austen birthday celebration in Cleveland last Sunday. Tuesday evening, horrible weather had slowed Spence's drive home from Cleveland meetings to a thirty-five miles per hour pace on Pennsylvania state roads.

    Weather forecasts predicted the snow Peggie wanted to avoid would start tonight.

    “Why don't we stop on the way to the restaurant in case the weather is bad later?”

    “I don't want the lettuce to freeze in the car.”

    “We could take it in with us.”

    “That's an idea.”

    We oohed and aahed at Christmas lights in Cochranton then drove on to Meadville.

    At the Meadville Giant Eagle, Peggie parked by the cart return near the entrance. “I'll leave the motor on. I won't be long.” She disappeared into the store.

    I hummed along with “Silent Night.”

    Folks walked past the SUV. Two young men carried bundles of plastic bags to the recycle bin, a couple checked a paper list, and single shoppers hustled out of the cold.

    What if a teenager heard the car engine running and decided to go for a joy ride?

    No teen would want to drive a Buick SUV.

    If a car thief came, could I get the keys out of the steering column?

    Not wearing that seatbelt.

    “I'm being silly,” I told the radio. “Lots of folks leave their car running for passengers in the winter.”

    I tapped my foot to “Santa Baby” and checked colors of coats on people leaving the store. Gray, brown, black. No red.

    Several women walked close to the SUV to return shopping carts. A man, in a tan coat and without a shopping coat, approached the driver's door then veered around the back.

Perhaps he was looking for his car.

    He returned to the driver's door.

    Okay, he wasn't looking for his car. What did he want?

    He spoke at least a sentence outside the window.

    With “O, Come All Ye Faithful” on the radio, I couldn't hear him. I said, “What?” with no hope he'd hear me either. But, Spence says, my face could win a Pulitzer Prize.

    The man must have read the question in my expression. He opened the driver's door. “Is this Peggie Moorhead's car?”

    “Yes,” I forced myself to answer.

    “Good. I met her in the store. I'd left my green jacket at her house. She said the jacket was in her car.”

    “I don't know where it is, but you can look.”

    He opened the door to the backseat and picked up Peggie's powder blue down coat. His green jacket was underneath. “This is great. It saves me a trip all the way back to Milledgeville.” He closed both doors and walked away.

    I turned the temperature dial down and wiggled my over-toasted fanny to “Jingle Bell Rock.”

    When the song ended, Peggie in her red coat walked to the SUV carrying a bag which presumably held lettuce. She settled behind the driving wheel. “Did you see John?”

    “Yes. He got his jacket. Who is he?”

    “He's my cousin who lives here in Meadville. He'd left his jacket at my house after a guest preaching job at our church last Sunday. Funny meeting him at the store.” She backed out of the parking place. “I told him not to scare you. He didn't, did he?”

    “No, but I was surprised.”

    “Silver Bells” played on the radio.