Owen pressed on because he understood now that he had to. He told her about a dream he had experienced regularly since his recovery—a wet road, oncoming headlights, a sensation of speed followed by a profound and sudden stillness. He had never been in a serious accident and had no explanation for the dream.
Helen had gone very still. She sat back down beside him on the bench, closer now than before. “The song,” she said. “You hummed a tune—did Richard mention it?” Owen shook his head. “Richard didn’t tell me about any song.” A pause. Then, quietly, with a slight self-consciousness that he made no effort to hide, he hummed a few bars. She gasped.