Snowblind Read Online Free

the mounds of baggage and boxes. "Wait a minute!" he cried desperately. "I’m sure we can work somethin' out!"
    The hunter aimed his gun.
    Jake grabbed a stuffed duffel bag and hugged it to his chest. "Donny! Help! Somebody! Please!"
    Shakshi noticed something and relaxed his hold on the rifle.
    "What... what is it?" Jake stammered.
    The Inuit was staring at the top of the duffel bag.
    Jake looked at the opening. A small furry white tail was sticking out. "What...this? This here?" Jake clawed open the bag. The Yakuutek's face widened in amazement.
    A litter of half a dozen snow-white fur balls spilled out onto Jake O’Donnell's lap. They couldn't have been more than a few weeks old.
    The Yakuutek stared at them, his mouth agape. This proud hunter from the Arctic Circle had apparently never laid eyes on a cat.
    Jake held one out in his trembling hands. "You like the kitty, Shocky? She’s one o’ Lily's litter. Lily is Frank Dieter’s cat. We were taking 'em back to the pound in Fairbanks."
    The Yakuutek hunter set down his rifle. He took the tiny creature into his arms as if some great miracle of the Earth Mother had been handed him, a precious gift from the White Spirit of the North. A small smile crossed his face, a smile of awe that Jake thought he'd probably not forget for a long, long time.
    "You all right in there, Jake?" he heard Donny shout.
    "Yeah," he called back.
    He watched the Inuit cradling the kitten. "What do you say, Shocky. Wanna trade the monster for the kitties?"

7.
    The snowman had no head.
    Three children, bundled in parkas and scarves and boots and gloves, were on their knees rolling a ball of snow across the white-blanketed schoolyard. They stumbled over each other like puppies, the sound of their laughter echoing sharply off the high brick wall of the schoolhouse.
    Kris could hear them from the parking lot. She was sitting in the car with her mother, Linda Carlson, a 42-year old widow whose raven-black hair had already begun to gray. Linda was talking to her, but Kris was no longer listening to her words. Carried away by the echoing shrieks of the children, she had drifted off to another time and place, far away in a distant corner of her memory, where her tiny brother Paul was searching for a carrot he'd dropped in the snow.
    Gradually she became aware of her mother speaking her name.
    "You see, honey, that's exactly what I'm talking about."
    "What?" said Kris irritably, turning from the window. She wore a stylish pair of sunglasses that reminded Linda of pictures of her own mother from the 1950's.
    "Now don't get defensive. You weren't listening, that's all."
    "I was listening."
    "You were a million miles away."
    "No, I wasn't," Kris mumbled. In her mind she saw Paul gleefully holding up his carrot.
    "I'm not going to argue," said her mother. "We've already decided about this."
    " You decided about it."
    "You had your say. I listened. I determined that you're just giving up. I won't let you do that."
    "Mom, I'm eighteen years old. I can make my own decisions. I always have to do it your way."
    "That's not true. You didn't want a dog. Did I force you to get a dog?"
    "I don't like dogs," Kris said emphatically. "And they don't like me."
    "Honey... the Burton's Shepherd didn't know you, that's all."
    Kris rubbed her hand nervously. "I don't want to depend on an animal like that."
    Linda looked at her daughter. She reached out, took one of her hands tenderly in her own. "It's okay to admit you're afraid of dogs. There's nothing wrong with being afraid." She continued to hold her daughter's hand, gently caressing it. "Don’t you think that might be what's happening here, too?"
    Kris pulled away. "Spare me the psychotherapy, Mom."
    "You loved the cross-country. What's so different about this?"
    "What's wrong is that this is what you want. You couldn't care less about what I want. You're treating me like a child."
    "Well, maybe if you didn't act like such a..." She stopped herself. "Someday you'll