Beru abandons her reading when she hears a knock at the front door. It’s late, she knows, far too late for the visitor to be a (distant) neighbor, nor is it likely to be the police, not out this far in the desert. She taps Owen’s leg as she passes, rousing him from his doze on the couch. He follows her to the front.
Beru opens the door to cold, dry desert air and a man, familiar as a folktale, standing on her doorstep. He’s holding a child. A feeling like the drip of cold sweat down one’s back passes over her.
“Can I help you?” she inquires, gesturing minutely for Owen to stay quiet. He’s not the most tactful of men.
The man in the door opens his mouth as though to speak, but words fail him. His shoulders come up, burying him further in the brown cloak he wears, hood down. A Jedi’s garb. The child gurgles. He bounces up and down on the balls of his feet and tries again. “Beru Whitesun?” he manages.
“Yes?”
“Good.” He sways and, for a moment, Beru thinks he might collapse. “I. I. Hmm. Do you remember, by any chance, a man by the name of Anakin Skywalker?”
Owen steps up beside her. “Who’s asking?” He’s never liked the Skywalker side of the family.
“I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man says, “and this is Anakin’s son.” He holds the baby out like he expects Beru to just take him, and Beru gasps. The child can’t be more than a week old, still wrinkled and pink and just-barely-there. “I don’t know how much of the news has spread to the Outer Rim, but-”
“We know,” Owen says. Everyone knows by now. That sort of thing spreads like sand on a windy night.
Obi-Wan nods. “Then you might understand why he needs a safe place to stay. I hate to ask this of you, especially seeing as you don’t know me, but he’s just a child. Will you take him?”
Obi-Wan meets Beru’s eyes for just a moment and the intensity in his gaze nearly bowls her over. This man is on the brink of… something, just like the galaxy, just like Anakin Skywalker not so very long ago, and Beru reaches without hesitation.
“Beru, wait,” Owen protests. “We’re not-”
“Not what? Ready for a child? Weren’t we just talking about trying for one not three days ago?” Beru gives him a look. “This is fate, Owen. We want a child, and this boy needs a home. He’s family, Owen.” She turns back to Obi-Wan, who’s staring at her like she’s grown three heads. “What’s his name?”
Obi-Wan stammers for a moment, then says, “Luke. His name is Luke. That’s important.” He holds the child out again and this time, Beru takes him.
“Hi, Luke,” she coos, cradling him to her chest and brushing a bit of sand off his blankets. “Owen, look at him. What a sweetheart. Luke Skywalker.”
Owen’s eyes soften as soon as he sets eyes on Luke, though he’d never admit it. He reaches out and touches Luke’s tiny nose with one cautious finger. “Hello.” Luke makes a soft sound and closes his eyes as Owen’s widen. “Oh, you are sweet.”
Beru turns back to Obi-Wan. He’s leaning against the door now, hand white-knuckled on the frame and eyes closed in what looks to be relief. “Obi-Wan, come inside. It’s cold out there and you look terrible.”
His eyes snap open again and he jerks upright with a start. “Oh, no, no, I couldn’t, I’ve already asked too much. Thank you for all you’ve done, but I’ve got to be going now.” He looks over his shoulder into the velvety blue desert night. “Yes, I’ve got to be going.” He turns back to them and gives Luke a long, sad look.
“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Beru asks. Obi-Wan’s face falls. “I thought as much. Come inside, dear, really, it’s nothing.”
Obi-Wan falters, looking from her to Owen to Luke and back again. He’s once again taken up his hold on the doorframe. The poor man looks dead on his feet and it only confirms Beru’s suspicions that, whatever had happened, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker had been at the center of it. She wonders what’s become of the girl Anakin came here with on the day Shmi died. She wishes she wasn’t smart enough to figure it out on her own.
Obi-Wan’s eyes have gone wide and glassy and it looks as though whatever force powered him here is gone. He doesn’t look like he’ll be answering any time soon. Owen clears his throat and steps back, beckoning him in. “Well, come on, then, we can’t stand here forever. You’re letting the water out and the sand in.”
Obi-Wan startles out of his reverie, shaking his head as though to clear it. Wordlessly, he follows Owen and Beru down the steps and into the main house. Beru smiles. Good man.
“Come on, then, let’s get you boys settled,” she says. “Owen, you put some dinner back in the oven for a minute or two. Get this man something to eat while I settle Luke in.” With her free hand, she guides a listless Obi-Wan to the couch and has him sit. “Here, you take Luke for just a moment, dear, while I find some of the Darklighters’ things. Babysitting comes in handy sometimes, you know.” She passes Luke to Obi-Wan, who takes him and collapses around him, tipping his head down and pulling his knees up and looking for all the galaxy like this child is the last thing he has.
She ruffles his ginger hair as she walks away, lingering just long enough to hear the beginning of a wordless, hummed tune, some sort of Coreworlder lullaby.