Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
L una walked around Serenity's main room, lighting lavender-scented candles and adjusting meditation cushions. Today was her first official morning session. Through the windows, she had seen Archer and Dawson walking on the beach earlier, but she pretended that she was just working and not paying any attention to them. She did notice they were having quite an intense conversation and that caught her attention.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Janine stood there with her yoga mat tucked under her arm.
"Ready for our first real day?" Janine asked as she stepped inside.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Luna replied. She smoothed her hands over her bright pink yoga pants. "I keep thinking I've forgotten something important."
"Like breathing?" Janine teased as she set her mat on the deck. Luna liked to keep the French doors open so that the house was open to the ocean. It was one of her favorite things about facing the beach—to feel that ocean breeze coming right through the room.
"Maybe that's it. I should probably breathe," Luna laughed.
"I saw Archer out walking this morning," Janine said casually—a little too casually. "He seemed very interested in what you were doing in here."
"Yes, I saw him and Dawson. He's just curious," Luna said, arranging some fresh flowers in a vase. "And probably wondering what kind of a crazy person opens this kind of a place in his tiny hometown."
"Mm-hmm." Janine's tone was skeptical. "Well, my mama thinks?—"
"If you finish that sentence with anything about me and Archer Hawk dating or getting married or having babies, I'm going to revoke your yoga privileges," Luna warned.
Janine laughed and stretched out her mat. "All I'm saying is he actually came to the opening celebration, and from what Julie told me, he stayed longer than they expected."
"Look, I would only want to help him in a professional manner. He obviously has lots of issues, and I feel sorry for him. I feel empathy for him as another human being. But can we just focus on today?" Luna asked, even though she was trying not to smile as she thought about him despite herself. "Our first real clients will be here in less than an hour."
"Okay, fine, change the subject," Janine said. "But you can't blame me for being interested. Apparently, Archer hasn't shown interest in anything or anyone since he came back to Seagrove."
Luna arranged teacups on a tray. She brought special herbs from her stash, planning to brew her grandmother's calming tea blend for after the morning session.
"And you know what I think?" Janine continued, sitting on her mat. "I think you understand him better than most people here. We all just see the golf guy who lost his career, but you see?—"
"I see a person underneath their pain," Luna finished quietly. "It's not that complicated, Janine. It's what I'm trained to do. It doesn't mean I'm interested in him at all beyond that."
"Are you sure that's all it is? Professional interest?"
Before Luna could respond, the front door opened, and their clients started to arrive—a mother and daughter from Atlanta who'd booked a week-long vacation to Seagrove and wanted some day sessions at Serenity. Luna straightened her shoulders and pushed thoughts of Archer aside. Time to get to work, she whispered to Janine, standing up to greet her guests.
As she led them through Serenity's morning routine of gentle stretching, meditation, and finally the special tea, Luna couldn't completely shake the memory of Archer on the beach that morning, looking up at her windows.
As Luna poured the herbal tea into delicate cups with little pink roses on them, she watched her clients' faces soften with contentment. Their morning session had gone better than she'd hoped. Even the teenage daughter who had started the class with typical adolescent skepticism gradually relaxed into the gentle movements and breathing exercises.
"Wow, this tea is amazing," her mother, Sarah, said after taking a sip. "I've never tasted anything quite like this."
"It's my grandmother's blend," Luna explained, sitting down on one of the cushions across from them. "She grew all these herbs in her garden in Puerto Rico. She always said that a good tea was medicine for the soul."
"Well, your grandmother sounds very wise," Sarah said, cradling her cup in both hands.
"She was," Luna said, remembering her abuela's small but vibrant garden. "She taught me that healing isn't about just fixing what's wrong, but about nurturing what's right."
The door opened, and Luna looked up to see Julie entering with a stack of books from Down Yonder Bookstore.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt," Julie said. "I didn't know you had clients here this morning, but I brought those wellness books we discussed for your lending library."
"Oh, perfect timing," Luna said. "We were just finishing up our morning session."
Julie set the books on the shelves, and Sarah and her daughter gathered their things. Both looked noticeably more relaxed than when they had arrived. Luna walked them to the door and scheduled their next session for the following morning.
"You're good at this," Julie said once they were alone. "Really good. They looked like the two most relaxed people on the planet."
Luna smiled. "Well, that's the goal. Small changes, one breath at a time."
Julie walked over to the window and looked out at the ocean. "I'll never get tired of this view, no matter if I see it here or at my own house. You know, I was thinking about those gentle movement classes you mentioned starting, the ones for people with injuries or chronic pain."
Luna smiled, already knowing where this was heading. "Let me guess, you think they'd be perfect for a certain former golfer?"
"Well, now that you mention it," Julie turned to face her. "He's not doing his physical therapy exercises. Dawson's very worried about him. My husband is the sweetest man. He always thinks about other people more than himself, but honestly, I'm worried about him, too."
Luna began gathering up the empty teacups. "Julie, I understand you want to help him, but Archer needs to want help first. I can't force him to come here. He needs to do it for the right reasons."
"You know, he's very different with you," Julie said. "At the opening celebration, he was actually talking to you. Apparently, he really talked, not just grunted one-word responses like he usually does."
"We just connected over something unexpected," Luna said. "That's all."
"Well, maybe that's enough. Sometimes all it takes is just that one small connection to open a door."
Luna carried the teacups to the kitchen, thinking about Archer's face when he talked about missing the golf course in the mornings. There was something there—such a longing, such grief for something lost.
"I'll tell you what," Luna said. "If he asks about the classes, and that's a big if, I'll make sure that there's space for him. But it has to be his choice, Julie. You can't heal someone who's not ready."
Julie nodded. "Fair enough. Though don't be surprised if Mama starts leaving class schedules at his table every time he comes into Hotcakes."
Luna laughed. "Is there anything SuAnn won't do to get her way?"
"Not that I've discovered yet," Julie said with a grin. "Oh, speaking of Mama, she wanted me to remind you about Sunday dinner, and no excuses this time. She said you need to experience a proper Seagrove family meal."
Luna wiped her hands on a tea towel, trying to hide her nervousness. "Sunday dinner? Listen, I don't want to impose on a family gathering."
"Impose?" Julie laughed. "Luna, you clearly don't understand how things work here. Family isn't just about blood in Seagrove. Besides, Mama's already planned the menu. She's determined to try her hand at more Puerto Rican dishes, so we're going to need the backup."
"Oh no," Luna said. "Please tell me she's not going to attempt mofongo."
"Actually, I think that was exactly what she was muttering about this morning. Something about plantains and garlic."
"That's it. I have to come now, if only to prevent a culinary disaster." Luna shook her head. "Your mother is a force of nature."
"Well, that she is," Julie said. "Speaking of forces of nature, Dixie's coming, too. She needs to properly educate you about Seagrove's history, she says."
Luna loved Dixie and her energy. "Well, I have a feeling I'm in for quite an education, then."
"Oh, you have no idea," Julie said. "But that's what makes it home. You know, you're going to fit in here just fine."
Home. It was starting to feel that way, wasn't it? Luna thought.
The door opened again, and both women turned to see who had arrived. Luna was shocked, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw Archer standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable.
"Well, I'll let you get back to work," Julie said, quickly gathering her things. As she passed Archer, she gave him a surprised smile. "Well, look who finally decided to stop lurking outside."
Luna watched Julie and Janine leave and then turned to Archer, who stood just inside the doorway as if he was going to run out at any moment. He looked like he wasn't even sure how he'd gotten there.
"Good morning," she said, trying to sound casual. "Can I offer you some tea?"
He shifted his weight, his hand unconsciously moving to his shoulder. "I, um, actually came here to ask about those movement classes you're starting next week. Julie mentioned them."
Of course she did, Luna thought, making a mental note to have a word with her new friend about meddling. "Would you like to sit down? I can tell you about them."
Archer hesitated and then nodded, following her to the comfortable seating area overlooking the ocean. Luna noticed how carefully he lowered himself into the chair.
"So the classes are designed for people working through chronic pain and injuries," she explained. "It's about gentle movement, breathing techniques that help release tension and promote healing."
"So no weird music or chanting?" he asked.
She couldn't tell, but there seemed to be a hint of humor in his voice.
Luna smiled. "No chanting. That's a different class," she said, laughing. "Though I can't guarantee there won't be some calming background music, but the ocean does a lot of the work for us there."
She watched as his eyes drifted to the windows.
"I'm not good at this stuff," he finally said, looking back at her. "The slow movement, the breathing. I'm used to pushing through pain, not doing… well, whatever this is that you do.”
"And how's that working out for you?" Luna asked gently.
His eyes met hers. "Not great," he admitted.
Luna leaned forward slightly, keeping her voice gentle. "Can I ask you something, Archer?"
He nodded, but she could see wariness creep into his face.
"What do you miss most about golf? Not the competition or the rankings, but the feeling of it."
He was so quiet for so long that she thought he might not answer at all. Finally, he spoke. "The peace. Early morning on the course, when everything's quiet except for the birds and the sound of my club cutting through the air. The whoosh of that sound, the perfect connection between me and the club and the ball, when everything aligns just right. The way nothing else existed in those moments."
"And that's what these classes are about," Luna said softly. "Finding that peace again, that perfect alignment, but just in a different way."
Archer ran his hand through his hair. "I saw you working with those clients this morning," he said, "when I was walking for my second time. They looked content, peaceful."
"That's the goal. Small changes, one breath at a time."
"You said that before on the beach—about breathing."
"Because it's true."
She stood and moved to the small kitchen area. "Let me make you some tea, my grandmother's blend. No pressure about the classes, just tea."
She could feel him watching her as she prepared the tea, and when she returned with two cups, he had relaxed a little.
"Your grandmother," he said, as she handed him the cup. "The one from Puerto Rico?"
Luna nodded and sat back in her chair. "She would have loved this place. She always said the ocean was its own special medicine."
Archer took a careful sip, his eyebrows raising slightly. "This is different, but good different."
"It's a blend of herbs my abuela grew herself. Mint for clarity, chamomile for calm, and a few other special ingredients she swore by. She used to say that the best medicine doesn't come from a doctor's office."
"Smart woman," Archer said. "The movement classes—when do they start?"
Luna kept her voice steady. "Tuesday and Thursday mornings, right after sunrise. Small groups, just four or five people. And no pressure to commit to anything. You can try one class and see how it feels."
He nodded, tapping his fingers against the teacup. "Maybe... maybe I'll try one."
"I'll save you a spot," Luna said, trying not to show how she was cheering inside of her head. "Just remember, it's not about pushing through pain. It's about working with your body, not against it."
"Yeah, that's the hard part," he admitted. "I've spent my whole life pushing. I don't know how to do it any other way."
"Well, maybe it's time to learn," Luna said. "Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is just try something new."
"I should go," Archer said, setting down his empty cup. "Thanks for the tea. And the, well, you know…”
“Lack of pressure?" Luna suggested.
"Yeah, that."
He stood carefully and walked toward the door. "I'll see you Tuesday, I guess."
"Tuesday," she confirmed. "Just bring yourself and an open mind. That's all you're going to need."
As she watched him walk away, she felt a mixture of hope and anxiety. This was either the beginning of something important or a recipe for heartache. But as her abuela used to say, the best things in life usually came with a little risk.
* * *
A rcher sat in his room at the inn, staring at the workout clothes he'd put out for tomorrow's class. What in the world was he thinking, agreeing to this? He could already hear the whispers that would probably spread around town—how the fallen professional golfer was reduced to a gentle movement class at some kind of new-age woo-woo wellness center.
A knock at the door interrupted his brooding.
"It's open," he called, knowing it would be Dawson. Who else would it be?
His friend stepped in and looked at the workout clothes and Archer's troubled facial expression. "So you must have gone to see her."
"Julie told you?"
"Nah, she didn't have to. You've just got that look like you used to get before a big tournament, like you're simultaneously plotting to win and planning your escape route."
Archer laughed. "It's just a movement class, man. It's not the Masters."
"Right." Dawson leaned against the dresser. "And that's why you're sitting here staring at workout clothes like they might bite you."
"I don't know why I agreed to this," Archer said under his breath.
"Yeah, you do. You agreed because, for the first time since you got injured, somebody is offering to help you without making you feel like a broken man."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Archer asked, looking up sharply.
"It means Luna sees you as a person. She refuses to see you as a tragedy, which is what you see when you think of yourself. Maybe that scares you more than any amount of physical pain."
Archer stood up and walked to the window. "You're starting to sound just like her, you know. All this talk of feelings and seeing people for who they are."
"Well, maybe that's because she's right," Dawson said. "When was the last time you did something just because it might help, not because you were trying to prove something or be the best?"
The question hit harder than Archer wanted to admit. His whole life had been about proving things—proving he was good enough, proving he deserved his spot on the tour, proving he would come back from every single setback, no matter how big it was. Until this one. This one had taken him out. If not physically forever, then definitely mentally. He knew his professional career was over.
"Her tea was different," he suddenly said, surprising himself.
"Her what?"
"Her tea. She gave me some blend that her grandmother in Puerto Rico made. It was..." He struggled to find the right words. "It was like nothing I've ever tasted before. Then she talked about her grandmother and about finding peace in certain places. I don't know, it all made sense at the time somehow."
Dawson was quiet for a moment. "You know what I think?"
"I'm one-hundred percent sure you're going to tell me."
"I think you've spent so long being Archer Hawk, the golf pro, that you've forgotten how to just be Archer. And maybe that's what really scares you about going to these classes. It's not the breathing or the movement or any of that stuff. It's the fact that, for an hour, you'll just have to be yourself."
Archer turned to him. “When did you become so philosophical?"
"Probably around the time I married a bookstore owner," Dawson said, laughing. "I guess Julie's rubbing off on me."
"God help us all," Archer muttered.
"Well, either way, I stand by what I said. I remember the guy you were when we were growing up. And this isn't him."
"Well, there's a lot of water under the bridge as we get older," Archer said, shrugging.
"I know you're still in there. And I liked that guy."
"Are you saying you don't like this guy?"
"He's okay," Dawson said, smiling. "But I know he can be better. You need to get back to who you were as a person, without all the other stuff. I think that's the only way you're ever going to be happy."
"Well, the problem is, I have no idea how to do that."
"Speaking of Julie," Dawson said, changing the subject, "she mentioned SuAnn invited you to Sunday dinner?”
Archer groaned. "Does everybody in town know my business?"
"Pretty much. Small town. You remember that. Besides, SuAnn's Sunday dinners are legendary around here. And she's apparently going to try her hand at Puerto Rican cuisine."
"Ah, so let me guess. Luna's going to be there."
Dawson's grin widened. "Now why would that matter?"
"It absolutely doesn't matter," Archer said a little too quickly. "I just don't need the whole town watching me like I'm some kind of project they need to fix."
"Nobody's trying to fix you, man. They're trying to include you. There's a difference. Stop being so defensive."
Archer looked back at the workout clothes on the bed. He'd laid out a simple gray T-shirt and black shorts, but today they were mocking him. How many times had he gotten dressed for practice without a second thought? And now, all of a sudden, this felt very complicated.
"You know what Luna said? She said sometimes the bravest thing we can do is try something new."
"Smart woman," Dawson said.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think she is."
The sound of the ocean drifted through the open window. It was steady and constant. It never stopped. It came in, it went out—much like breathing, he thought. And then he remembered Luna's words about working with his body instead of against it.
"So," Dawson said, "I'll tell Julie you'll be at Sunday dinner?"
Archer sighed. "Do I really have a choice?"
"In this town, with these particular women?" Dawson laughed. "Not really."
After Dawson left, Archer found himself drawn to the window again. From his room at the inn, he could see Serenity's pale pink exterior off in the distance. A light was still on inside, and he could make out Luna's silhouette moving around, probably preparing for tomorrow's classes. He thought about the tea she'd given him, how the unfamiliar blend of herbs had somehow calmed the constant tension in his shoulder, how she'd talked about her grandmother's garden in Puerto Rico but had chosen Seagrove instead.
He got that—how a place could call to you, how it could feel like home even when it didn't make any sense on paper. That's how the golf course had always felt to him. It didn't matter which golf course he was on, they all felt like home. When he didn't look down and see bright green grass, perfectly manicured, it felt weird to him.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand—another message from his agent that he ignored. What could he say? Sorry, can't think about comebacks right now. I'm too busy drinking herbal tea and signing up for gentle movement classes.
But Luna's voice echoed in his head. Sometimes the things we miss the most are the feelings they gave us, not the things themselves.
He looked at his workout clothes again. They were simple and basic, unlike the high-tech gear he'd worn on tour. But maybe that was the point. Maybe Dawson was right. It was time to strip everything back to the basics, including himself.
The only problem was, he didn't remember that guy or what he was like.
One breath at a time, he muttered to himself.