Click Here to Return to Homepage for A Good Read

The Cat at the Back Door

By: Dorothy McFalls

January 2005

For Dorothy McFalls (dorothy@dorothymcfalls.com), happily-ever-after is more than just a fictional ending, having enjoyed every day of the last eleven years of marriage to her sexy architect husband who often exhibits the patience of a saint. They reside in an artsy beach community in South Carolina with their cat-like dog and dog-like cat. Formerly an environmental urban planner, she now writes full time.

Look for her Signet Regency Romance, The Marriage List, on bookstore shelves in May 2005!!

The cat was still there. Big and black, it sat on the back stoop like a fluffy gargoyle as it peered up at Miranda with a pair of haunting yellow eyes. Taunting her. No matter how loud she shouted or clapped her hands, there just was no getting rid of the beast.

She picked up a wide bristly broom that hanged on a rusty hook by that back door and shook it at the cat. It rose slowly. A pair of glowing eyes stared with a chilling foreboding as it ambled several feet away to sit where the yard gave way to a lowland pine forest.

Miranda leaned against the broom handle and sighed. For generations, the MacGervey family knew when a death was imminent in the household. A cat, very much like that cursed beast, would take up residence at the back door. Miranda had first seen it happen herself days before her mother’s death.

And hadn’t the doctor’s office called yesterday, saying there was a problem with the results of one of her annual tests? She sighed. It appeared her time had run out.

Only a few years ago this house, the MacGervey home for four generations, had been filled with love and noise. Miranda, the oldest of seven, had helped her father raise the babies her mother had left behind. And after her father’s death she’d done it on her own. One by one they moved away, leaving the house silent for the first time in MacGervey memory.

She was the last.

Her hopes of filling the house again with childish laughter faded into an impossible fantasy. Never would she have guessed that she’d find that damned cat at her back door so soon. She might have done things differently had she known.

* * *

Grady Sutton was frantic. Snaps, his old tomcat and best friend, hadn’t come home for lunch. He retraced his steps through the forest, calling his lost cat’s name while berating himself for straying too far from the house in the first place. He’d only moved into the old house he’d rented three days ago and knew it took Snaps at least a week to become accustomed to a new place.

It was the intrigue in the swampy forest that had called to Grady. He’d taken his camera and gotten lost while capturing the shimmering images of prickly pine branches with the misty light tripping through the blades. Snaps had followed along for a while before wandering off to chase a squirrel.

Grady would never forgive himself if he lost his best buddy forever thanks to his own carelessness. The light blazed across the sky in brilliant hues of red and amber. Soon, nightfall would be on top of him. He hoped Snaps would quickly find his way home.

He picked up his pace and followed a trail that seemed familiar, but after a while it led to a small clearing that he hadn’t seen before. A riot of pink and yellow flowers swayed in cozy beds surrounding a white clapboard house that looked nearly identical to the one he’d rented.

A woman with short, sun-streaked hair leaned on the handle of an ancient broom and glared wide-eyed toward the far end of her small back yard. A look of pure, honest horror quivered on her dew-kissed lips. Despite her tight jeans and pink tank top, she looked like the classical fairy-tale witch, the good kind that saved weary children from the wart-nosed evils in the world. Perhaps that would make her a good fairy...Grady wasn’t too sure about the mythical structure of such things.

Not that it mattered. What he did know for certain was that she’d make a perfect subject for the art book he was developing. A swamp goddess in blue jeans cloaked in long shadows from the wise oaks surrounding her, Spanish moss clinging to their branches like an ethereal mist.

“Excuse me,” he called and put on his most disarming grin. Strangers must have been a rarity indeed in this part of the woods. She nearly jumped out of her creamy skin at the sound of his voice. And, he swore those were tears she’d hastily wiped away with the back of her hand.

She turned to face him. Her honest show of emotions were cleared away with a smile that looked as fake as the Rolex watch on his wrist.

“You must be that photographer everyone has been talking about,” she said with a southern lilt that sounded like music to his ears. “Renting the Hampton house, right?”

“That’s right. I suppose that makes us neighbors,” he said as he crossed her yard. “Howdy, neighbor.”

His cornball expressions usually won a laugh from even the most wary of females. This one only glanced beyond his shoulder and murmured something unintelligible.

Worse than a rejection, she’d completely dismissed him. It was a reaction Grady had never experienced. At six-foot-three with broad shoulders, a flare for fashion, and brown wavy hair that made models jealous, women noticed him.

Most women gazed upon him with a lusty shine in their eyes. He knew he wasn’t being boastful when he thought of himself as exceedingly handsome. So why did this fairyland beauty fail to even see him?

“I’m Grady, Grady Sutton,” he said and offered his hand.

“Yes, I know,” she said, still looking at something at the edge of her yard and holding her broom with a death grip.

“This is the part where you offer your name.” He didn’t know why her disinterest bothered him. It was probably because she’d left him standing there with his hand held out like an idiot. He jammed his empty hand back into his pocket. He wasn’t looking for a woman anyhow. It was the forest he’d come to discover, not the gentle curves of a barefooted, long legged, slender witch.

“Never mind,” he said before she could utter a word of apology or offer her name. At least she’d finally flicked her gaze in his direction. It held steady on him for more than a fleeting moment, as her eyes traveled up from the tips of his toes. “I’ve lost my cat, Snaps. I was wondering if you’ve seen a fat--”

The pale pink coloring drained from her cheeks. He grabbed her arm when she began to sway.

“There,” she whispered.

Grady followed her gaze. At the edge of her perfectly manicured yard sat Snaps looking damned pleased with himself.

“It’s been on my back stoop all day. It won’t leave,” she said as if plagued by a demon from hell, not a slight overweight aging cat.

“That’s Snaps,” he said with a huge sigh of relief. “I usually put his food dish right inside the backdoor. This house looks very much like the one I rented. He probably got confused.”

“Take him away,” she said, her voice growing tighter by the minute. That fake smile was getting squeezed out by some very real tension.

Grady looked at his harmless, confused kitty and back to the woodland witch and couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re afraid of cats, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I love cats. They are so useful, catching vermin and all. I just don’t like them near my back door. I’m sure you understand. Just-just take him away. Lock him up if you have to.”

Her words spilled out. And there was real fear in the way she’d shaken her finger toward her back stoop when explaining why his cat bothered her so...well, she really didn’t explain anything, did she?

He quirked a brow. “I won’t lock Snaps up. That would be inhumane.”

“It’s just a cat,” she said. “Keep it away from me.”

The sexy witch, who was beginning to sound like the evil variety, turned on her heel and disappeared into her house, slamming the back door behind her.

“Making friends already, I see,” he said to Snaps and then scooped the fat kitty into his arms. “You’ve been eating too much pasta, too.”

Snaps yowled a protest as his yellow gaze settled on the witch’s lavender back door.

“I know,” he said. “She’s odd, but for some reason I like her too.”

* * *

The next morning Miranda opened the back door to find the black cat stationed on the center of the stoop, staring up at her in the most menacing manner.

It had come back.

Of course it had.

Last night she’d convinced herself that come morning she’d find her stoop empty. Surely Grady knew his cat better than she. Surely she’d been overreacting.

How wrong she’d been...

She frowned at the cat. It was washing a paw. Miranda went back into the house to fill a saucer with milk. No reason to be unfriendly, it was just the messenger after all. And it apparently wasn’t leaving until... Well, she wasn’t exactly ready to think about that.

“I’m just going to have to deal with it,” she said as she set the saucer on the stoop.

“Deal with what?” Grady asked, startling Miranda out of her skin for a second time in as many days.

She clutched a hand to her throat, pulling her robe closed. One of her frivolous indulgences, now that she lived alone, was to keep a closet full of sensuous lingerie. She loved the silky feel of them against her lonely body at night.

The pale pink little baby-doll nightie with a black lace trim that dipped low in the chest and barely reached the tops of her legs wasn’t exactly something she admitted to owning.

“The-the cat--your cat,” she said. Her face lit up like it had been touched by fire. His gaze, as palpable as a caress, traveled up her legs and over her fire engine red silk robe that ended a touch above mid-thigh. He took his time before he reached her face.

She met his eyes. He quirked a brow and gave a crooked smile.

“I’d love to photograph you,” he said. His voice had deepened a degree, making her suspect he wanted to do more than just snap pictures of her in her slinky lingerie, which was embarrassing enough. She hadn’t noticed before, but he was holding a camera. The expensive kind with an elaborate system of lens. Professional. It looked at home in his wide palm.

Actually, everything about him looked at home. His jeans were well worn, relaxed but not baggy. He wore a long-sleeve plaid shirt that hung open over a white t-shirt that had “Shutterbug” written in bold letters across the chest and a cartoon drawing of a odd-looking beetle peering into the wrong end of the camera.

“Photograph me?” Her voice squeaked just a little. If he didn’t have that just out of bed tousled look and she wasn’t nearly naked, she might have agreed. “I-I don’t think so.”

“No?” He leaned against the doorframe and pursed his lips as if he wanted to say more. His gaze stayed with hers, not straying from her face, even when she bent down to pick up the now empty saucer. “Every move you make, every breath speaks to me. It is as if you are irreparably tied to this swamp. I have to photograph you. You are as important as the majestic cypress trees and the leviathan alligators. My book wouldn’t be complete without its woodland beauty.”

“You think I’m tied to this land?”

His cat yowled an answer just as Grady started stumbling over his words, saying something about not meaning to imply that she was a backwoods hick with dirt permanently staining her nails.

But he’d been right. She was tied to the land. She’d lived her whole life in the middle of this cypress swamp. While her family all moved away and started families of their own she’d stayed. She’d stayed too long and fallen in love with the house.

And now her time was up.

“Okay,” she said, speaking over the abysmal job of backtracking Grady was doing.

It was Friday. Her doctor’s office was closed until Monday. She’d get no information about those troublesome test results until then. Not that she needed some doctor to tell her what was sitting in front of her face--or rather, at her back door.

And if she only had a few days of living left, she might as well make the best of them.

“Okay, okay,” she said louder now to get him to be quiet for a moment. His causal façade was crumbling. She imagined that she was getting a rare glimpse at the real Grady Sutton and not the ultra-confident hunk-of-manhood-gift-to-every-woman he portrayed. It was a rather charming view. “You can take those pictures.”

The robe she’d been holding closed with a death grip slipped from her hand and fell open. With a tentative smile and anticipation tightening her breasts, she swung open the screen door. “But first, would you like to come inside for a spell?”

* * *

Grady swallowed hard. His eyes felt like they might pop right out of his head. This woodland beauty had to be spinning witchcraft. No woman, not even any of the supermodels he’d dated, had ignited his body as firmly as this slender woman did...and he still didn’t know her name.

“Um...um...” he muttered, trying to think of a way to ask her name without ruining his chance to get what those sultry green eyes had silently promised. It wouldn’t be right to jump in bed with a woman without getting to know her first.

“Yes?” she stopped just inside the door and asked. Her silky robe was still open, giving him a tantalizing peek at the sheer pink nightie with a frilly lace trim barely covering the tips of her gently rounded breasts. Her legs, gracious, they were so long and lean. The short negligee gave him a nearly unobstructed view of their whole length.

There was nothing he wanted more in the world at that moment than to take this swamp witch into his arms and...and...

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, her dewy lips parted. Grady fought an urge pull her into his arms and taste them right there on her back stoop.

Blood pounded through his ears, making his ability to hold onto a coherent thought nearly impossible. “N-nothing,” he managed to say.

He followed her lead into her silent house, through the shadowy kitchen, and into a cozy living room crammed with family photographs, trophies, and certificates lining the walls and littering every inch of available shelf space. He lifted a brow at that. She didn’t look old enough to have mothered all those children. And he certainly wasn’t in the mood to think of her in a motherly manner.

Her swaying hips were leading her to a well-loved sofa in the middle of the room. There were too many memories in this room, too many questions tripping over the lust clouding his brain. Grady captured her slender arm and pulled her up against his chest. “Let’s go back outside,” he whispered against her pearly lips. “I remember seeing a hammock hanging under that grand oak in your backyard.”

She nodded slowly. “Out back,” she said drowsily.

Her gaze grew glassy, as they stood pressed together in her living room stuffed with memories. He dipped his head and took a taste of her lips. She tasted of honey and of the bright sun drying the earth after a heavy rain. It was a new addictive flavor that made him want more. She parted her lips and he deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue into her mouth. Delving deeper into her rich flavor.

She laced her fingers behind his neck and moaned softly.

A longing for a home stirred low in his belly, a foreign feeling that should have set him running as far and fast as his legs could carry him away from this mysterious woman. Yet there was a comfort beneath the passion that lulled him closer and silenced those natural instincts to prevent her from getting too close. Her spiraling tongue wove a spell around him that kept him firmly ensnared in her trap.

Every breath he took was filled with her essence. And his heart thrummed in concert with a strong throbbing of desire. He was doomed.

This was the lifetime kind of woman he hoped he’d never find. That was what he tasted in her honey-sweetened kiss...a lifetime of loving. He could kiss her for a hundred years and not get his fill. She was the shadowy figure who lurked in his dreams and, he feared, threatened to kill his wanderlust.

She awakened some ancient instinct of wanting to put down roots and become a provider. And a partner.

His camera slipped from his fingers and bounced onto the sofa. He ran his hand up the silky length of her back, savoring the arching curve of her back beneath his skin.

With a growl of frustration, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her out into the backyard. That was where he planned to devour his fairyland witch. That was where she deserved to be loved, under the wide, blue sky. Not smothered by the memories of a silent house.

This would be the first time, a voice deep inside him whispered, the beginning of a lifetime.

Like it or not, he’d found his forever.

* * *

Miranda kissed the tips of his rough fingers, each one in turn. He lowered her onto the solid green and white striped cloth hammock. With surprising grace he joined her on the hammock, balancing on his knees between her bare legs.

Sunlight winked at her through the old oaks leaves. A gentle breeze felt cool against her fevered body. She moved, following only her instincts, meeting his touch as he inched up her pale pink negligee. He explored every inch of her with deliberate care.

Her body ached for him, this stranger. She’d never let go like this before. She’d never let herself feel--not think or worry that he might be judging her performance--she simply felt. He caressed her, tracing her curves with his nimble fingers until her tensions melted into a soft heat and then into a demanding ache that pulled a shiver of delight through her body as he placed his mouth to her breast.

She groaned a deep sigh into his broad chest. If only this moment could last forever. But it couldn’t. This would probably be her last chance to enjoy such earthly pleasures. A frantic edge crept into her lovemaking.

This was her last chance.

She grabbed his belt and tugged. The loops on his worn jeans resisted her. She tugged harder. They had to do this. She had to experience a man, this man, before it was too late.

The hammock swayed suddenly, nearly tipping them out onto the grass. She managed to get his belt unhooked and the top button of his jeans undone as they slid back and forth on the quaking hammock. Grady grabbed her hands.

“Hold up there,” he said, while doing his best to steady the hammock with his knees. Excitement sparked in those brown eyes of his. “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

He flashed a tender smile that made her heart ache as he ran a tantalizing finger between her thighs.

“And I do know how this all works,” he said, his voice dipping deeper into a velvety range. Her breath caught in her throat as he traced the inner curve of her thigh. “In due time, Sweet,” he said. His bedroom voice thrummed through her body, making her feel him all the way down to her atoms. “All in due time.”

She leaned her head back and breathed in a deep sigh. In the bliss that followed she let him show her just how skilled he was at pleasing a woman.

* * *

Miranda woke up to find the sunlight dancing high in the trees above them. She was cuddled up against Grady’s side. A blanket--one she recognized from the linen closet--was draped over the both of them. Her silky lingerie lay entangled in a heap on the grass with Grady’s rough jeans, flannel shirt, and boxers.

Grady peeled open one eye. A lazy grin pulled at a corner of his mouth. He looked comfortable, satisfied.

Miranda stretched. Her muscles ached, especially the ones not used to being stretched this way and that. It was a good kind of ache, the kind that reminded her that she was still acutely alive.

It had been years since she’d...No, she’d never felt so completely sated like this before.

“Well, hello there.” He sounded hoarse, like he’d just woken up from a heavy slumber. He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled at her more fully. “I suppose I should ask your name so I can shout it out the next time I let you do that to me.” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Baby, you and I...” He shook his head in disbelief.

Miranda couldn’t help but feel disbelief herself. She’d just had sex with a man who didn’t even know her name? Heck, she didn’t know much more about him than his name and the name of his damned cat. Her behavior was so out of character.

What was she thinking?

“Hello?” he said and placed a kiss on her well-loved lips. She snuggled all the closer to him, pressing the full length of her naked body against his. “You okay?”

Was she okay?

Her gaze strayed in the direction of her house. That big black cat, Snaps, still haunted her back stoop. Its furry tail twitched as it turned its head and fixed its golden eyes on her.

“Am I okay?” she whispered the question.

And burst into tears.

* * *

Grady held his breath as Miranda cupped a steaming teacup with both hands and lifted it to her lips. Her eyes were still rimmed red, but all traces of tears were gone. She sat as regally as a fey princess stripped of her crown. The heavy purple blanket he’d found in her closet was wrapped around her bare shoulders like a royal cloak.

Out by the hammock, he’d taken just enough time to tug on his blue jeans before wrapping that blanket around her and leading her inside for the tea she was now sipping. He fought an urge to go to her, fearing that if he enfolded her in his arms, she would break down into tears again. And he wasn’t brave enough to see her that vulnerable for a second time.

“I need to know more about this family legend,” he said. He had listened to her carefully worded explanation of why she’d been frightened of his cat. And he was trying his best to understand. “Are you sure that you aren’t misreading the signs? That Snaps isn’t simply an elderly, confused kitty? Our houses do look somewhat alike.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her. He’d seen some unexplainable life and death things in the course of his world travels and had learned to not be so quick to judge.

It was just that he wasn’t willing to lose this wondrous once-in-a-lifetime find of woodland magic.

Miranda tucked a short strand of golden hair behind her ear. She looked up at him, her eyes filling with longing. “There is no real certainty in these things,” she admitted. “A cat appeared at the back door three days before my mother’s death. Another cat appeared in that very spot a day and a half before my father suffered a freak heart attack and died.”

Grady reached across her small, rickety kitchen table and pried her hand from the teacup. He caressed her fingers.

“The doctor left a message on my answering machine. One of my annual tests shows a problem,” she said on a whisper. She strained to give him a brave smile. “It appears that my time is up. And the cat--your cat--has come to sit vigil at my back door.”

“It just doesn’t seem fair.” Hell, it wasn’t fair. He’d only just met Miranda. All his life he’d been the one to run away from the woman. And just when he’d found one he considered sticking around for, this happens.

Dammit. When he looked into her wide, frightened eyes he swore he could see his future. A long, beautiful future filled with lazy summer afternoon just like this one.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Life is rarely fair. All I know is that I’m alive now. For how long?” She looked away quickly. “No one really knows the answer to that question, anyhow.”

Grady was about to argue that point with her, to say anything to talk her out of dying. If she didn’t believe it, they could will the angel of death away. He simply knew they could.

He opened his mouth not knowing exactly what to say to change her mind. The first thought that popped into his head and out his mouth was, “Do you smell gas?”

He sniffed deeply. The rotten egg odor was growing thicker.

Miranda lifted her head and frowned. “I think there’s a leak in the line somewhere. The smell comes and goes. I was planning on calling a repairman this week but then your cat--”

Grady grabbed Miranda and pulled her from the kitchen chair. They were halfway out the back door when a deafening explosion shook the earth. A searing fireball licked their backs and tossed them like discarded toys to the ground.

* * *

Miranda stood under the shady oak tree. Things were happening all around her. People were asking her questions. She could hear their voices. She saw their faces crinkle with concern as they peered into her eyes. But beyond the abstract acknowledgement of them, she couldn’t say who was standing beside her or make the sounds she was hearing have meaning.

All she could see was the smoldering remains of her family’s house. Her life had been in that house. And now it was gone.

The fire, fed by the gas leak, had taken every last thing that defined her. She had hoped to raise a family in that house.

And now all was lost...

Someone was trying to talk to her again. A blurry image of a young man put his face between her and her wreck of a home. He pressed something cool to her burning brow.

She batted him away and stumbled forward toward her house. Perhaps she could savage something. But just like before when she’d frantically tried to get into the house, hands held her back. A pair of strong arms engulfed her in a protective embrace. She weaved where she stood and hugged the blanket she had kept draped over her shoulders close to her body. She wore nothing underneath. All her clothes, along with her life, had been in the house.

Grady’s big black cat rubbed up against her leg. She turned her head down and saw him. Really saw him. He blinked his wide yellow eyes up at her and let out a long, sorrowful yowl.

* * *

“She’s in shock,” a paramedic told Grady. “We really should take her to the hospital. And you should get that gash on your forehead checked out, too. It looks like it’ll need stitches.”

“No,” Grady said, not sure why he resisted help. Snaps, purring up a storm, rubbed against his leg for a moment before scampering off after a squirrel. His gaze went back to the empty concrete back stoop. It was just about the only thing from the house left standing.

“My life was in that house,” Miranda whispered.

“No, not your lifeblood. It is still beating through your veins.” Grady pulled her tightly against his chest and rubbed his hand up and down her back. She was his responsibility now. And he intended to take care of her.

“We’ll be okay,” he said. “Everything’s okay now.”

* * *

Miranda stretched and yawned. After hiking through the Andes for the past month, it felt good to be sleeping in a bed again. She snuggled in the downy warmth of the old quilt they’d found at a garage sale. It smelled piney, just like the quilt her grandmother had once given her.

It was one of the few things she’d replaced from the house.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Grady said and placed a tender kiss on the tip of her nose. “The light is perfect this morning. It’s got this ethereal glow shining through the trees. I’m off to try and get some more shots for that art book my editor is pushing me to finish. Want to come along?”

As much as Miranda wanted to stay snuggled in the comfortable bed, she couldn’t disappoint the excitement dancing in his eyes.

“I nearly forgot,” he said as she slid out from under the quilt. He caught her bare hips and pulled her close. “I still haven’t gotten that chance to photograph you.”

“With clothes on,” she said and gave him a quick peck on the lips a moment before wiggling out of his grasp. “Let me get dressed.”

“If you insist,” he said while feigning a chest pain...which reminded her.

“The doctor called yesterday,” she said.

“Oh?” Much of the color drained from Grady’s tan face.

“Nothing to worry about. He says that sometimes a test comes back with a false positive. After running the test three more times over the past four months, he says he’s ready to breathe easy.”

Grady grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest. “Is my heart still beating? For you scared the life right out of me.”

She pressed her nose to his and whispered, “I’m okay. We’re together. What more can we ask for?”

“A lifetime,” he said as he eased her back into the bed. “A damned lifetime isn’t asking too much. Marry me, Miranda.”

She nodded furiously, kissing him everywhere all at once. A future. A bright, new adventure. A long, lifetime partnership with Grady was truly a dream worth the risk to a heart she’d guarded for far too long.

And Grady did his part, making sure he always put Snap’s food dish just inside the front door.

Click Here to Return to Homepage for A Good Read