You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father's. He's more particular.— Robert Frost No man is a hero to his valet. — Madame Comuel Or to his father.— Jonas Cord PROLOGUE PEOPLE HAVE RECURRING DREAMS. Jonas cord had them. Memories are often distressing. Dreams, bringing memories to life, are worse; emotions that are dull in memory come back sharp and tormenting in dreams. The one that came most often began with the words "Jonas — my son." "Jonas — my son," his father had muttered as he toppled into his son's arms, dead of an abrupt, massive stroke. One moment Jonas Senior was a powerful, domineering man. The next moment he was dead. He had died without ever having told his son he loved him, or that he was proud of him. He had died without ever hearing any such words from his son. The old man and the young man loved each other, but neither could ever bring himself to say so, and neither ever felt confident of it. Jonas resolved he would never let things be that way with a son of his own — if he ever had one.
