Rose Bunch Ghosts
W
hen it comes to the potential sale of a haunted property, Arkansas State Law requires the owner to disclose to a prospective buyer the nature of the haunting. This is one of those archaic laws, like those against spitting in front of a lady or riding a horse drunk on a Sunday, which the state has not taken time to clean off its books. The existence of such a law was first pointed out to me by Mr. Vaughn, also known simply as Old Man Vaughn, of Vaughn Title Insurance of Pope County. My future ex-husband and I had recently purchased one of the finer old homes of Russellville, Arkansas. We lived in another house my husband had already shared with his first ex-wife, and were well into an extensive remodeling when Old Man Vaughn called to tell me this. Rumors had reached him from ductwork, plumbing, and general construction people around town. He was giggling. He also wanted a tour of the home he remembered from its first unveiling, when Mr. and Mrs. Wilson opened it up for a community viewing. "They had one day set aside just for the coloreds to see it," Mr. Vaughn said. He seemed to think this was incredibly gracious. The five thousand square foot home was designed by a former student of Frank Lloyd Wright. The original design had been featured in an architectural magazine, and copied meticulously and enhanced by the Wilsons. It contained creamy limestone and chocolate colored marble floors with delicate orange feathering, a custom mahogany kitchen from Germany, floor to ceiling glass that slid on heavy rollers to open to the outside, walnut tongue and groove walls, an indoor swimming pool - it was lovely and rare and no one in Pope County would buy it. Russellville was a land that subscribed to model #809, new, French country home knock-offs in solidly Baptist, caucasian neighborhoods. There was something disturbingly atypical for Pope County about this home. Since the death of Mrs. Wilson it had remained empty on the market. Even just a few hours away in Fayetteville, the house would have been snatched up at over a million. We purchased it for $157,000 with a loan my parents insisted on making to us, half of the original construction cost, and began our renovations, stunned at our good luck. We walked through the vacant house several times a day, kissing and hugging one another. Then the ghost, or ghosts, made their displeasure apparent. "I'm betting its Mrs. Wilson, if l know her," Mr. Vaughn said. He walked with his son beside him, a man in his late fifties, who occasionally steadied his father with a slight touch to his elbow. Mrs. Wilson had been dead for six years. The house was placed on the 30
FUGUE#J l