Page 12 of Serenity at Seagrove
"I get that," he said, his voice quieter. "The magic part. Before everything happened, there was nothing better than being on the course at dawn when the dew was still fresh on the grass and everything was quiet except for the birds."
Luna turned to him, a bit surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. "You miss it."
It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. "Every day, every minute."
"Well, sometimes the things we miss the most are just the feelings they gave us, not the things themselves."
His jaw tightened. "You sound like a therapist again."
"Funny how that keeps happening," she said with a small smile. "Must be because Iamone."
Before he could respond, SuAnn's voice rolled outside. "Luna, honey, you've got to come try these empanadas I made! I had to call my friend three times to get the recipe right."
Luna laughed and shook her head. "That woman is unstoppable."
"Julie would say you have no idea," Archer said. "Better not keep her waiting. I think she's known to track people down."
As Luna turned to go inside, she paused. “I’m glad you came tonight, Archer. I hope you are, too.”
She left him there on the deck and could feel his eyes following her. She wondered if maybe, just maybe, they had taken a small step toward understanding each other.
* * *
The morning after the opening celebration, Archer was back on the beach for his usual walk at dawn. His mind kept going back to the conversation he had with Luna on the yoga deck. There was something about the way she talked about Seagrove, about how she found peace there, that had struck a chord with him. He'd grown up in Seagrove, so he knew every inch of it like the back of his hand, even after not living there for so many years. And he wondered if now, as an adult, he could recapture the experience that he'd had as a child. The mysteriousness of the Lowcountry—the smells, the sights, the sounds. Could he appreciate them and allow them to find peace for him, that elusive thing that he seemed to be unable to find?
He flexed his shoulder absentmindedly, feeling that familiar ache that always seemed worse in the morning humidity. The physical therapist had, of course, given him tons of exercises to do, but most days he couldn't even bring himself to complete them. What was the point? His career was over, and there was no amount of stretching or strengthening that was going to change that. He felt like such a feeble old man, but Luna's words kept echoing in his head.
Sometimes the things we miss most are the feelings they gave us, not the things themselves.
"Dang therapist," he muttered, kicking at the sand.
"Do you talk to yourself often?"
Archer turned to see Dawson jogging up behind him, already sweaty from his morning run.
"Just thinking out loud because I thought I was alone, but apparently I have a weirdo stalker,” Archer said.
"Thinking about last night?" Dawson fell into step beside him. "Saw you talking with Luna."
"Oh gosh, don't start," Archer warned. "It's way too early in the morning for this."
"Start what? I'm just making an observation," Dawson grinned. "Although I have to say, it's the most I've seen you talk to anybody since you got back."
Archer was quiet for a moment, watching a flock of seabirds overhead. "Well, she's a little different than I expected."
"Different good or different bad?"
"Just different," Archer shrugged and winced as his shoulder protested. "It's like she gets it somehow, about places and things having magic, and about finding peace in unexpected ways or in certain places."
"You mean like on a golf course at dawn?"
"Yeah," Archer said. "Like that."
They walked in silence for a while, the waves providing a steady rhythm to their steps.
"You know," Dawson said after a while, "Julie told me that Luna's going to start some gentle movement classes this week. Not exactly yoga, but something about breathing and mindful stretching."
Archer shot him a look. "Are you seriously suggesting?—"
