Haunted House

I can’t believe Arthur is gone. After 60 years of marriage, how could he leave me? Oh, I know it wasn’t his choice. The doctors said something about his heart--myocard-whatever. All I know is that his heart must have become so big that he could not contain all the love anymore. I grabbed another tissue and dabbed at my red eyes, sore from so much crying and so swollen I could hardly see. They said this isn’t my house anymore. They want to move me somewhere. It is close by, but it still isn’t my home. This is my home. How could this not be my house? Arthur and I lived here for 57 years!

Like I had for decades, I walked up the front walk to the big, green house. I remembered when Arthur and I considered buying it. “How many kids we gonna have, Milly?” I liked that he called me Milly. Much better than Mildred. I had smiled and hugged him. “Well, this house is big enough for however many we want,” I said. And it was plenty big enough for us to raise the six children we ended up having. Now they are all grown up and have kids of their own.

Why Arthur had only been gone a week when the auctioneers came out and started putting things in boxes! It had been only a week, right?

The rose bushes in the front beds look neglected. Petals fell like tears from the fading blooms. I had always taken such good care of them. Arthur bought them for me on our 30th anniversary, because he knew how much I love them.

I sat on the porch swing and rocked, back and forth, as I looked at the “for sale” sign. “Sold!” it proclaimed. But how can that be? This is my house. My home.

* * *

Wynette and Hank parked the truck in the driveway. “Well, Hank, first thing we gotta do is get rid of that ugly green paint. Then I wanna rip out them old roses. We could get blocks like they sell at Lowe’s. Make a real nice flower bed. Get a Bradford pear. Oh, and get rid of that ol’ porch swing.” She tucked a lock of her short, dyed hair behind her ear (“Debutant Blonde” the stylist called it).

“Hang on, Wynette. We just bought the place. I’m still figurin’ out how we’re gonna manage the mortgage. I haven’t reckoned on paint and stuff.”

She thrust out her lip in a mock pout.

Hank put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure we’ll fix it up real nice, soon as we can.” He turned to look down the driveway. “Look, here’s Bob with the UHaul.”

He started to turn to go help his brother unload the truck, but Wynette stopped him. “Wait, you got to carry me over the threshold!”

Hank smiled and kissed Wynette. “All right then.” He unlocked the door to the old, green house, picked up his wife, and carried her inside.

* * *

After a week, they had pretty much settled in. The unpacked boxes had been placed upstairs. All the necessities had been put away and Wynette moved her new furniture around until she was satisfied with the arrangement. She set the sofa in front of the bay window and put a vase on the coffee table. The armchair and end table had been placed just so by the fireplace. She hung a mirror over the mantle piece. The hooks there indicated that the previous owner may have had a mirror in the same place.

She hung her spoon collection on the wall. On the sideboard, she spent half an hour carefully arranging her collection of porcelain poodles. The shelves in the living room proved to be the perfect place to display her dolls.

Wynette opened the last box marked “kitchen” and finished putting her pots and pans in the cupboard. She frowned at the rack above the stove. “We’ll have to get rid of this.” She paused when no response came from her husband. “Hank? Where’d you get to?” She heard a floorboard creak. The door of the screen porch thumped shut. “Well, how’d you get back there? I though you was in the other room,” she muttered to herself as she went through the kitchen to the porch. She opened the door and looked for Hank, called his name. No one was there.

“You call me?”

Wynette turned around. Hank was looking at her as he leaned against the jamb of the kitchen doorway.

“I just heard the porch door shut!”

“Wasn’t me,” Hank said.

“Wasn’t no one, I guess. Nobody’s there.” She joined Hank in the kitchen. “I’ll get dinner ready now so we can go to bed soon and get up early tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Don’t wanna be late on my first day preachin’ at a new church.”

* * *

Wynette chattered as she went through the front door. “I think that was one of your best sermons yet! And the people at the new church seem pretty friendly. They—” Her words broke off and she stopped just a few steps in. “Oh, dear Lord!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Hank attempted to get around his stalled wife.

“Look at the mirror, Hank.”

Black crepe fabric draped over the mirror that Wynette had carefully hung the day before.

“My word,” Hank murmured. “Where’d that come from?”

Wynette pointed to the coffee table. Weeping red roses filled the vase. “Look at that! I didn’t put them flowers there. You put them there, Hank?”

“I wouldn’t give you half-dead flowers, darlin’.”

“How they get there? Is Bob pullin’ a prank on us, or what?”

Hank just shook his head.

“Good Lord, Hank, you think it’s a ghost?”

* * *

“Well, I told Hank I think this house is haunted.” Wynette held her cellphone in one hand as she finished snapping a suitcase shut with her other hand. “Mmm-hmm, that’s right. I told you, the door shut and when I looked nobody was there. And the fabric over the mirror and the dead flowers, oh my Lord! We just prayed and prayed. Mmm-hmm. What else we gonna do. Well, I guess Bob coulda been jokin’ around. Anyway, I just finished packin’ and we’re about to leave. We’ll see you in a few hours. Love you. Bye!”

Hank picked up the last suitcase. “You all set?”

“Yes, I am. Oh, Hank, I need this vacation so much! I can’t wait to see Meemaw!”

“I am lookin’ forward to this, too.”

Wynette hesitated by the front door. “Think the house’ll be all right?”

“Only gonna be gone for a week. Should be just fine.”

Wynette went through the door. Hank pulled the door shut and turned the key in the lock.

* * *

“It was so nice to see Meemaw!” Wynette said as Hank pulled into the driveway.

“It was nice to see her. And we had such lovely weather. Didn’t rain the whole time like it did before.” Hank put the truck in park and cut the engine.

Wynette held out her hand. “Here, give me the keys and I’ll unlock the door.” As Hank retrieved the luggage from the truck, Wynette went up the front steps. The key turned too easily in the lock. Was it already unlocked? They had locked it before they left, hadn’t they?

She went in and turned on the lights. Her scream brought Hank running into the house.

The sofa had been put in front of the fireplace. The armchair and end table had been moved to the bay window. Black fabric draped the mirror again. And the vase held dead roses.

“Where are my spoons, Hank? And look, my poodles are gone! My dolls are gone!” Wynette covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her sobs.

Hank looked through the kitchen door and pointed to the porch. “What are them boxes doin’ there?” He went through to the screen porch and then came back to the living room, shaking his head the whole time. “It’s all our things. All our things been packed up again.”

“We’re leaving,” Wynette said, putting her hands out as if to forestall an argument. “I ain’t staying another night here. It’s haunted. Pick up the suitcases. We goin’ back to Meemaw’s.” She did not wait for Hank, but turned and walked out of the doorway.

* * *

I shook my head. Those idiots never even changed the locks. I walked up the familiar steps of my big, green house. I opened the door and went through into my living room. Empty now. I remember, though. We always put the sofa in front of the fireplace. Put Arthur’s favorite chair and table by the bay window. In season, I always kept roses in the vase on the coffee table.

My house. My home.

Hmmph. Must be a little out of breath from going up the stairs. Oh. What’s this pain? My heart! Is this what Arthur felt?