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FICTION Rolling Salvation Jimmy Carl Harris And there came into the country a man ofexceeding beauty and wisdom. He moved among the people ofthe land, serving them body and soul. "WHATCHA GOT IN THERE?" The storekeeper was a slight, fine-featured man with long, wavy light brown hair that would give rise to envy in a woman and suspicion in a man. He searched Mahalie up and down with sweet-smiling eyes. "All manner of things. Goods to please the palate and the pocketbook. Remedies for chigger bites and female problems. Wonders from afar." Mahalie stood below the entrance to the rolling store, her natural pallor mottled by early July sunburn, her thin figure clad in a handme -down dress the Christian Women's Fellowship had dropped off three Christmases back, trying to peer past the storekeeper into the dark interior. The rolling store had only recently appeared in Mahalie's corner of Nail County, Alabama. Essentially, it was a large metal box with one door and no windows perched on the platform of an old International flatbed. This was the first time she had waved it down. "Can't see much." The storekeeper turned sideways. With his outboard hand, he swept more heat into the store. "Well, step right in. There's much to see." Mahalie hesitated on the lowest step. "AU I need is something besides fatback and cornbread for supper. You got canned goods?" "Got peaches from Georgia, California figs, pineapple all the way from Hawaii." "Ottis don't take much to fancy food. Maybe some peaches." Mahalie climbed into the store. The storekeeper flicked a switch, bringing to life a pair of twenty-five watt bulbs and a small oscillating fan. The fan, mounted near the far end of the store and just in front of a faded red curtain, pushed an exotic concoction of smells, nutmeg and tobacco and ripe banana, into Mahalie's face. The storekeeper retreated down the narrow corridor between the laden shelves. He stopped beneath the second bulb and gestured for Mahalie to follow. She did, but paused at a display of lace. "What d'you get for this?" 61 "Imported from Belgium. On sale at nineteen cents a yard. How much today?" "Maybe some other time." Mahalie continued into the barely dissipated gloom, past buckets of lard, sacks of Jim Dandy corn meal, jars of Golden Eagle table syrup, spools of thread and packets ofneedles. She stopped a foot away from the storekeeper. "That your peaches?" The storekeeper lifted a can and studied it. "Grade A Fancy. Yellow cling in nectar. Very tasty." Mahalie stood stark-still in the warm wash of pungent air. Despite the scant light, she could see calm and mirth in the storekeeper's dark blue eyes. She offered no resistance to his gaze, felt it soothe her caution and encourage her curiosity. "Not from around here, are you?" "Originally, I was. Nail County High School, class of '49. Joined the Navy, spent some time in Hong Kong, Singapore, Korea. Got out and went to college in California. Taught school for a while in New Mexico and Hawaii. My papaw passed away and left me this rolling store. End of story. You want the peaches?" Mahalie nodded and held out a quarter, forcing her eyes to shift to the can of peaches. She noticed that the can was dented but did not complain. The storekeeper took the quarter from Mahalie and handed her the peaches. He opened a cigar box on the shelf near his elbow, dropped the quarter on top of a couple of dollar bills, and selected some coins from among the several dozen covering the bottom of the box. He took Mahalie's empty hand, gently pressed two dimes into her upturned palm, then curled her fingers over them. Mahalie took a step back, breaking contact. She opened her hand and frowned at the silver coins. "Cheap." "Special price for a special customer." Mahalie turned toward the door. She paused long enough for the tremor in her knees to pass, then took short steps to the door and carefully descended to the road. She stood, her back to the rolling store, looking at...

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