“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Beatles fan,” Shannon mused, stopping on an old number. “‘Here Comes the Sun’?” she questioned, brow arched. “You like this one?” “It’s my favorite one of theirs,” I told her, palms sweating under her scrutiny. “Me too,” she said softly. “My great-granda Murphy used to sing this to me when I was little.” I glanced over at her. “Yeah?” Shannon nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, whenever I got scared or nervous, he would always sit me on his lap and sing those lyrics in my ear.” She sighed contently. “And it always worked.” For some unknown reason, I made a mental
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