Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
L una woke before dawn and walked into the living room to start moving through her morning routine. Routine was a big part of her life. She had quite a dysfunctional childhood at different moments, and having a routine had kept her sane over the years. She brewed a fresh batch of her abuela's tea blend and stepped out onto the deck to watch the sky lighten over the ocean. She couldn't imagine a time where this would ever get old. She had dreamed of being in Seagrove her entire life, and now she finally lived here and could look at this view every day. She wondered if other people got used to it after a while, but she vowed to herself it would never become just a humdrum part of her day. She would appreciate it with as much gratitude as she could muster.
Today was important. This was the first gentle movement class she would teach in Seagrove, and she knew Archer would be among the students. She'd spent extra time planning the session because she wanted to strike the perfect balance between accessible and therapeutic. After finishing the tea, she moved to the main space, lighting candles and opening windows. There was nothing like fresh ocean air to start your day. The yoga deck would be perfect for the class, with the sound of the waves and the seabirds creating a natural soundtrack for healing.
She was adjusting the meditation cushions when she heard footsteps on the front porch. Through the window, she saw Archer standing there, looking like he might run away at any second. He was a full twenty minutes early. She opened the door and offered a warm smile, knowing this was hard for him.
"Good morning. Come on in and get settled."
Archer stepped inside, his movement still stiff and guarded. He wore simple workout clothes like she'd suggested, and his hair was slightly damp from what she guessed was a morning walk on the beach.
"I wasn't sure—" he started, looking around uncertainly.
"You're exactly where you need to be," Luna said. "Would you like some tea while we wait for the others?"
"Tea would be good," Archer said as he followed her into the kitchen. "Same kind as before?"
Luna nodded, preparing two cups of her abuela's blend. "It helps relax the muscles before we start. My grandmother always said tension lives in our bodies long before it shows up in our minds."
"She sounds like she was a very wise woman with a lot to say," Archer said, chuckling.
"That's probably an accurate representation," Luna responded.
She watched as Archer took a careful sip, noting how his shoulders seemed to lower slightly with each breath.
"So, how many others?" he asked, his voice a bit gruff.
"Just three today. Everyone's working through different injuries or pain. Sarah is recovering from back surgery. I also have a fisherman with a chronic knee issue and a retired teacher with arthritis. So, everyone's journey is different."
Before he could respond, the door opened and the other students began arriving. Luna watched as he retreated slightly into himself, positioning himself at the back of the deck. She understood that he needed space to have the illusion of privacy, even in a group setting. There was probably the worry also that someone would recognize him. She assumed that would be very upsetting.
Once everyone settled in on their mats, she began the class, keeping her voice soft but clear so they could hear it over the waves.
"So we'll start just by breathing," she said. "Nothing fancy, nothing complicated—something that we all know how to do. Just notice how your breath moves through your body. In and out, in and out."
She guided them through general warm-ups, careful to offer modifications for those with different abilities. And when they reached the shoulder exercises, she saw Archer hesitate.
"Remember," she said to the group but met his eyes briefly. "We're not pushing hard today. We're listening. Your body knows exactly what it needs, and our job is to pay attention."
To her surprise, Archer just closed his eyes and followed her instructions. His movements were deliberate and careful. The morning sun caught a little fleck of gold in his hair, and for a moment, she could see past the injured athlete with the bad attitude to the person underneath, someone who was just trying to find his way back to himself.
As the class progressed, she guided them through a series of gentle stretches and movements, keeping her voice steady and calm. She noticed how Archer's breathing gradually deepened, how the tension in his face started to ease. And when they moved to a particularly challenging stretch for the shoulders, she approached him quietly.
"May I?" she asked softly, gesturing to his shoulder.
He nodded slightly, and she made a small adjustment to his position. "Try bringing your elbow down just a bit. Sometimes less movement creates more space."
She felt him jump and stiffen initially at her touch but then slowly relax as the adjustment relieved some pressure. Sarah, at the front of the class, let out a contented sigh as they moved to a gentler pose. The retired teacher, Margaret, smiled in agreement. Even Tom, the fisherman who'd been skeptical about "this kind of thing," seemed to be finding some peace in the movements. But Archer held Luna's attention. There was just something about the way he approached every movement—determined but careful, like he was discovering new parts of his body with every breath.
They moved into the final relaxation pose, and Luna spoke.
"Let your body settle," she instructed softly. "Feel the support of the mat beneath you, the warmth of the sun, the sound of the waves. Right now, there is nothing to fix, nothing to change, nothing to achieve. There's just this moment."
She watched as Archer's fists slowly unclenched, his breathing deepening, and for the first time since she'd met him, he looked at peace.
After class, as the other students gathered their things and chatted quietly, Luna noticed Archer lingering on his mat, his eyes still closed. She tidied up and gave him the space to process whatever he was feeling.
"That was wonderful, dear," Margaret said, touching Luna's arm as she passed. "My joints haven't felt this good in ages."
"Same time Thursday?" Sarah asked, her face more relaxed than when she'd arrived.
Luna nodded, walking them to the door.
Tom paused. "Didn't think this sort of thing would help, but my knee feels better. Who'd have thought?"
After they left, Luna returned to the yoga deck where Archer was finally sitting up, running a hand through his hair.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, keeping her distance.
"Different. I can't explain it, but different."
"Do you want some more tea?"
He nodded, and she moved to the kitchen to prepare it. They sat out on the deck chairs, looking at the ocean.
"My shoulder," he said as she handed him the tea. "It's not screaming at me for the first time in months."
"That's because we worked with it instead of against it. Sometimes healing starts with acceptance."
He took a sip of the tea. "You make it sound so simple."
"Simple doesn't always mean easy," she replied.
He held up the cup of tea. "I think I might be getting addicted to this."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking tea and watching the waves. She could feel something had switched in him, but she knew better than to point it out.
“So, will you be at Sunday dinner?" he asked, suddenly surprising her.
"Oh, at SuAnn's? Yes. I'm a little bit worried about her attempts to cook Puerto Rican cuisine, though."
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Yeah, Dawson mentioned something about that. Said she'd been practicing all week."
"Well, she called me three times yesterday about plantains. I finally had to promise to come early and help."
Archer turned to look at her. "You know, for someone who grew up with all that—the food, culture, the beauty of Puerto Rico—Seagrove must seem pretty simple in comparison."
"Simple isn't always a bad thing," Luna said. "Sometimes it's exactly what we need. So, will you be there at dinner?"
"Apparently, I don't have a choice. According to Dawson, in this town, with these women—" he trailed off, shaking his head.
"Resistance is futile?”
"Something along those lines."
He stood carefully. "I should go, but Thursday?"
"Same time. We'll be here."
After he left, she finished her tea on the deck and let the morning sun warm her face. She could hear the distant sounds of Seagrove waking up with shop doors opening and cars moving along the beach road. Her abuela had always said that healing happened in its own time, like the tide coming in and out. You couldn't rush it. You couldn't force it. You just had to create the space for it to happen. Her goal was to make space not only for Archer, but for the whole town of Seagrove.
* * *
L una made it to SuAnn's house early as promised, following the aroma of spices and garlic up the porch steps. The white clapboard house sat back from the road, surrounded by flowering bushes and old oak trees draped with Spanish moss. She didn’t even get a chance to knock before the door swung open.
SuAnn stood there in a floral apron, her face flushed from cooking. "Oh, good Lord, thank goodness you're here. These plantains are giving me fits."
Luna couldn’t help but laugh as she followed SuAnn into the bright, warm kitchen. Every surface was covered with ingredients or cooking utensils, and something that smelled suspiciously like sofrito was simmering on the stove.
"Have you been cooking all day?" Luna asked, setting down her bag and rolling up her sleeves.
"Since dawn," SuAnn said. "I'm too old for this, but I just wanted everything to be perfect. It’s your first Sunday dinner with us, and, well—" she gestured to all the chaos around her. "I might have gotten a little carried away."
Luna moved to the counter where several plantains sat in various stages of preparation. "These need to be a bit riper for a mofongo," she said gently, "but we can work with what we have. My abuela taught me a few tricks."
As they worked side by side, Luna showed SuAnn how to properly mash the plantains with garlic and olive oil, sharing stories about learning to cook in her grandma’s kitchen in Puerto Rico. The kitchen was filled with the familiar scent of her childhood mixed with SuAnn’s traditional Southern dishes.
"You know," SuAnn said, leaning against the counter as she watched Luna work. "I've never seen Archer so quiet as he was after that movement class of yours."
Luna’s hands stilled for a moment. "First of all, you haven’t known Archer any longer than I have. And second of all, he’s actually been to two classes. And third of all, it has nothing to do with the two of us getting together or falling in love. He’s trying to heal."
"Oh, don’t worry, honey. I’m not meddling… much." SuAnn winked. "I just thought you should know that I think what you’re doing is making a difference."
Before Luna could respond, they heard voices from the front porch. Sunday dinner was about to begin.
The front door opened, and a rush of voices and laughter came rolling inside. Julie and Dawson arrived first with their son, Dylan, followed by Janine and Dixie, who was wearing a flowing turquoise dress adorned with a seashell pattern.
"Something smells amazing," Dixie said, making her way to the kitchen. She paused for a moment, looking around to take in the scene. "Well, look at this. It's like Puerto Rico met the Lowcountry. I do believe we're in for a treat."
Luna smiled and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. "SuAnn did most of the work. I just helped with the mofongo."
"Oh, don't let her fool you," SuAnn said, stirring something in a pot on the stove. "This girl knows her way around a kitchen. I can tell that her grandmother taught her well."
The front door opened again, and Luna's heart raced when she heard Archer's voice in the hallway. He showed up in the kitchen a few moments later, looking surprisingly relaxed in a light blue button-down shirt and khakis.
"You came," Julie said, looking at him and smiling.
"Like you gave me a choice," he said. His eyes met Luna's briefly, and she saw a flicker of something—maybe appreciation—before he looked away.
"Well, don't just stand there," SuAnn said. "Everybody out on the porch. Dinner's ready to be served."
The screened porch was set up with a long table, decorated with fresh flowers and candles. The evening breeze carried the sound of the distant waves, mixing with the salty air and the aromas coming from the kitchen. Luna found herself seated between Dixie and Archer, with SuAnn at the head of the table.
"Where's Harrison?" Julie asked.
"Oh, he's not feeling so well tonight. I promised I'd bring him home some leftovers," Dixie said.
"And where's Nick, by the way?" Dixie asked SuAnn.
"He went to visit some family in Alabama. He'll be back next week. Now, let's get on with Sunday dinner. Luna, honey, you have to tell me whether or not I did your grandmother's recipe justice," SuAnn said as she started passing around the dishes. After realizing SuAnn was serious about cooking, Luna had sent her one of her grandmother’s recipes.
"Everything looks wonderful. My abuela would be honored that you wanted to learn any of her recipes. Cooking was her greatest passion."
"The mofongo smells amazing," Julie said, helping herself to a generous portion.
There was a mixture of foods, from Puerto Rican dishes to Lowcountry favorites like cheese grits and peach cobbler. Everybody's plate looked like a mishmash of cultures. Beside Luna, Archer was oddly quiet, studying the unfamiliar dishes with careful consideration. He was still favoring his shoulder, even with the simple act of passing dishes.
"Try this," Luna said softly, spooning some mofongo onto his plate. "It's plantains mashed with garlic and olive oil—the comfort food of my childhood."
"Your childhood in Puerto Rico?"
"Summers with my grandmother," she explained. "She had this tiny little kitchen that always smelled like sofrito and coffee. She could make anything taste like home."
On her other side, Dixie was regaling the table with stories about Seagrove’s history, her bangles jingling as she gestured enthusiastically. But Luna couldn’t help but remain aware of Archer beside her, watching as he took his first bite of mofongo.
"This is—" he paused for a moment, searching for words, "really good. Like, really good."
Luna felt a warmth of satisfaction. "Food has a way of bringing people together. My abuela always said a shared meal could heal almost anything."
“She sounds like a smart woman," Dawson said from across the table. "And thanks to SuAnn for hosting all of us here and being willing to try something new," Dawson said, raising his glass of sweet tea. Everyone around the table did the same.
"So, Janine, where's your husband?" Dawson asked, referring to William.
"He had a late marsh tour today, and he didn’t want to bail on the people, but I promised him I'd bring home leftovers too. So everybody leave a little bit in the bowls," Janine said, laughing.
"Julie, how are the girls?" Dixie asked, referring to her adult daughters, Colleen and Meg.
"Oh, just busy with their lives. I feel like I don’t get to see them nearly as often as I’d like to. Of course, Meg is still helping out at the bookstore when she gets a chance, but Vivi is always involved in something. She takes ballet now, and she’s starting gymnastics classes next week."
"Oh wow, she’s getting so big," Dixie said.
"And Colleen?"
"Just being a new mom. You know how exhausting that can be. I invited her and Tucker to come tonight for Sunday dinner, but they just wanted a quiet night in. They did say thank you for the invitation, though," she said to SuAnn.
"Well, I'll see them next week. I'm making a special pound cake to bring over. Being a new mother is very hard."
Luna had always wanted to be a mother, and hearing other people talk about it sometimes tugged at her heartstrings in a way that was hard to explain. It just hadn’t been in the cards for her, and now she feared that she was too old to have a child biologically. Of course, to her, it didn’t matter. She would do it in any way that she could, but first, she had to find the right man to build a family.
“So, Luna," Dixie said, "you must tell everybody about what happened in your movement class recently. That fisherman, Tom, isn’t it? He came into the bookstore and was practically floating."
"Well, sometimes people just need permission to slow down and listen to their bodies. That’s all."
"That’s not all," Julie said, laughing. "You’re creating something very special at Serenity. Everybody can feel it. The whole town’s excited."
Much to Luna’s relief, the conversation shifted to stories about Seagrove’s past. Dixie seemed to have endless tales about the history, each one a little more colorful than the last, but Luna could feel Archer beside her and the way he relaxed—incrementally—as the attention moved away from the classes.
As the evening progressed, the sky turned purple with sunset. Luna found herself feeling more at home here with these relative strangers than she had in years. They were warm and genuine people, and she felt like the town had not been the only thing that had pulled her back to Seagrove after all these years. Maybe God knew that she needed these people, too.
The evening air grew cooler, and SuAnn brought out some coffee and a flan that Luna had helped her prepare earlier. Candles on the table flickered in the breeze.
"This reminds me of the evenings on my abuela’s porch," Luna said as she helped serve the dessert. "Though she had these tiny coquí frogs that would sing all night long. Sometimes it was hard to even talk over them."
"Coquí?" Archer asked.
"Oh, they’re little tree frogs native to Puerto Rico. They’re tiny, but they have this distinct song—co-kee, co-kee—that’s how they get their name." Luna smiled, thinking about her grandmother. "My abuela said they sang to remind us that the smallest things can make the biggest impact."
"You mean like gentle movements and breathing?" he asked quietly, his eyes meeting hers.
"Something like that," she said, her cheeks warming.
"Well, it seems like your grandmother had a lot of wisdom," SuAnn said. "And I’m glad to hear her stories and get to share in this Puerto Rican-Southern fusion dinner that I think was a great success."
Everyone smiled and clapped.
"Let me help," Luna said, rising, but SuAnn waved her off.
"No, you cooked. Julie and Janine can help me clean up."
"Spoken like a true mother," Dawson said. “Do you want me to help?" he asked Julie as she stood.
She shook her head and followed her mother and sister into the kitchen. Everyone else helped to clear the table, and Luna found herself sitting with Archer. In the twilight, the strings of light SuAnn had hung around the porch created a soft glow.
"Thank you," he said suddenly.
"For what?"
"For not making a big deal about that class when Dixie brought it up."
"Listen, Archer, your healing journey is your own. It’s not for public consumption."
"Yeah, well, you’ll find that not much in this town stays private."
"Well, maybe not, but some things can still be sacred. Like healing. Like finding your way back to yourself."
The breeze stirred the Spanish moss in the trees, creating shadows on the porch. She could hear laughter from the kitchen as they cleaned up, SuAnn’s voice rising above the rest, although Dixie was a close second.
"You know what’s weird?" Archer said after a moment. "My shoulder—it actually felt better after Thursday’s class."
"Not just physically, but like something unlocked?" Luna suggested.
"Yeah, and that scares me a little bit."
"Why?"
"Well, because if this helps—if this gentle movement, breathing, and all the stuff I dismissed actually helps—then what does that say about everything I thought I knew? About how I’ve been approaching my recovery this whole time?"
"It says you’re brave enough to try something new, Archer. That’s all it has to say right now. It doesn’t have to mean anything big.”
Their eyes met in the soft porch light, and Luna felt something shift, a subtle change in the air, like that moment before it starts raining.
"More coffee out here?" Julie broke the tension as she stepped onto the porch with a fresh pot.
"Oh, no thanks," Archer said, standing carefully. "I need to head out. Early morning tomorrow."
"Another class?" Julie asked.
"Maybe," Archer said. "Thanks for dinner and for, well, everything."
After he left, Julie settled into his vacated chair.
"Well?”
“Don’t—" Luna warned.
"I didn’t say anything."
"Yeah, well, you were thinking it very loudly."
Julie laughed. "Can you blame me? That’s the most I’ve heard him say at one time since he came back to Seagrove."
Luna watched the spot where Archer had disappeared into the darkness. "You know, he’s trying. That’s what really matters."