They were stranded.
Beru held onto her husband's hand as they burst into the Toshi Station in Anchorhead. There were a pair of men playing a holo-game. The cashier, a young lady, was casually smoking a cigarette and watching a holo-drama. All lazily looked at the newcomers who were fashionably dressed, Beru wearing stretch pants under her bustled skirt and long coat, Owen clad in a cloak that reached mid-calf.
An older man sauntered over, "Can I help you with something?"
"Yes," Owen answered politely, "My wife and I came in here to take shelter from the storm. Will it last long?"
"Storm won't be over till morning, as likely," the man answered. Dismay showed on the young couple's faces, "Not to worry, you may as well stay over in the station. We're used to such surprise visitors."
So Owen and Beru, the former hostess of Coruscants' most exciting stim-tea house, the goddess of hospitality, spent a night in a power station on the Outer-Rim.
As they sat up around a make-shift heating unit--the nights on Tatooine were cold--the young cashier tried to make conversation, "You folks come from a Core World, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am," Owen respectfully answered. "My wife and I are both from Coruscant."
The girl rubbed her hands together to keep warm, "And what brings you out here?"
"A farm. I inherited it."
"Farm?" The girl's eyebrows shot up, "Homestead you mean. Only those in cahoots with the Hutts actually own their property."
"Of course, a homestead," Owen answered hiding his shock at the revelation.
"-- at?" the girl asked.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
She repeated, "Where's the homestead at?"
Beru answered, "Five miles to the northeast."
A chorus of "Ahhs" greeted Beru's reply. Owen and Beru exchanged glances.
"It's the old Aki's Place," the girl explained. "They up and sold out two years back. Th' place has been rotting in the desert since. May not have much out there, I'm sure the Jawas and Sandpeople have had their turns at it."
"I see," Beru nodded. "We've read about the local culture."
Many of the station's occupants looked at each other, amused. They had seen the like before. Off-worlders coming in and trying an adventure in the homesteads of Tatooine. More often than not they were either dead or discouraged by the end of a year.
In the silence that followed the last remark, Beru was distracted. There was something about the women she had observed. It was... That's it. None of the ladies wore their hair long. Hers was wound with many braids and pinned behind her head, ribbons threaded through them. She suddenly felt very self-conscious.
"I would like to retire now," Beru said standing up.
"I'll show you to the 'fresher," the cashier said, rising.
The girls chatted as they prepared for bed. It turned out that the cashier's name was Maira. She had been a slave in Mos Eula and was manumitted after her master's death. She had moved to Anchorhead to start a new life, and lived at the Toshi Station as a worker, much as a slave, except this time with wages. It was the only life she'd known.
Maira was about Beru's age. Before they returned to the main room, Beru decided to ask about the hair.
"It takes too much water to wash long hair," Maira explained, "Only the very rich can afford to."
"Ahh."
Maira continued, "Only a Hutt's mistress, or a Darklighter enjoys such a luxury."
"A darklighter?" Beru's brow puckered in confusion, "Are they a type of species here? I have not recalled them in my studies."
Maira chuckled, "No, no. Not at all. They are the 'first family' of this little town. They have most of the moisture rights, so they have the money. Their connection to the Hutts is Anchorhead's worst kept secret."
Beru's face colored in embarrassment. The women continued cleaning their teeth, and rinsing--using only drops of water. In the silence Beru was thinking about the need to cut her hair. Owen would not be too crazy about that. He loved her long hair. But one did what they must.
Maira spat into the sink and asked Beru, "You just married?"
"Yes."
"You don't look too old," Maira observed.
"I'm 17."
"And your husband?"
"19. People marry young in the Core Worlds," Beru explained.
"Too bad. That's way too young."
Beru's annoyance must have shown because Maira quickly added, "I'm sorry, not for me to pry or criticize." Her voice got quiet, almost urgent, "Listen, it's hard out on the homesteads. Dangerous, lonely. The folks who lived there last--the wife killed herself from loneliness."
"Really?" Beru exclaimed in alarm.
Maira continued, "We have get-togethers here at the station, clubs it keep things from getting too monotonous. You're more than welcome to join us. And... If you ever need some gal to talk to, please come see me."
Beru nodded, still in shock about the former owner of the homestead.
Maira added, "And if you need any work, odd jobs, I have friends who are always looking for work. You know, at harvest time."
"Thank you."
A loud knock, "C'mon Maira, hurry up. Are you and the new gal moving into the fresher or what?"
Maira rolled her eyes and Beru giggled. She could see that Maira was the kind of person that could become a friend.
Beru and Owen slept in the staff room of the Toshi station on a narrow couch, a furnace beside them.
Beru cuddled next to her husband. "I may have found a friend, Owen."
"Already?" His wife was always friendly, but even he was surprised. Owen was quiet and shy. It was only Beru's forwardness that got them together. More than once Owen wondered why she had liked him.
Beru murmured sleepily, "She said it can get lonely. We need to keep in touch with the locals."
"Don't be too much of the socialite, Beru," Owen advised. "Remember, we need to keep a low profile!"
"Owen, having friends is hardly and act of overtness."
"I'm telling you to be cautious." He turned toward her in the dark, "I know you, Beru. Pretty soon you'll have a little circle and then..."
"Don't patronize me, Owen, and don't be so dang paranoid!" Beru snapped at him in her bossy manner.
"Let's just go to bed," Owen sighed, annoyed. As he tried to sleep, he thought how he looked forward to some manual work on the farm. Beru was starting to get on his nerves.
Beru and Owen walked the last few miles to the homestead which wasn’t much more than a hole in the ground. It looked as though somebody had torn it apart.
"Looks like the Jawas have been here." Owen commented matter-of factly. He began to clear a path and made quick little piles here and there with junk and rocks. As he did so, Beru peered into the hole. The place was swarming with creatures, the womp-rats. There were rocks strewn about, some bones from animals. Owen came up behind her.
"We’ll set up the tent down there until we can get the sonar working," He pointed into the hole. The sonar was a machine that emitted high pitched-tones inaudible to human ears, which was able to clear out the womp-rats and other critters. It also kept the sandpeople away. Owen’s moisture farming class at the University of Coruscant had paid off.
Beru nodded to her husband and did her best to stop from crying.
Here’s your future, Beru.
"C’mon. We have to get this power going before sundown," Owen called, "That or we’ll spend the night wondering if our toes will be eaten off by some rat when we wake up," Owen added.
"Not funny," Beru muttered.
The next few hours were spent with Owen working in the power station--another hole in the ground. Beru followed with some glow-rods and assisted her husband for awhile, but came aboveground when she realized that there was nothing for her to do. Before she moved up the steps Owen suggested, "Why don’t you set up camp? The tent is in my backpack."
Beru spent the next hour setting up the tent by herself. It was difficult to get the stakes in because of the sandy ground. Strands of hair wet with sweat kept getting into her eyes, and she smelled. The sand turned into dirty streaks on her face. This frustration was compounded by the knowledge that there would be no soothing shower in the fresher after this. Just a tent in a freezing evening, and quite possibly with critters swarming them... Owen was still working on the power.
Owen’s voice called out, "Beru, you’ve gotta see this!" She stumbled out of the tent eagerly.
"You got the power going?"
Owen shook his head but pointed. The twin suns were setting.
"Isn’t it amazing?" Owen exclaimed in awe.
"I’d rather you got the power going," Beru snapped. "We didn’t come out here to sight-see."
Owen’s head turned sharply towards his wife. "Well, I’m sorry I interrupted!" He stomped off. "Just finish the supper, and I’ll get your power on!"
Beru might have apologized if she were not so tired, dirty, and disappointed. She obeyed her husband and called out icily, "I’ll make a deal: you do your job and I’ll do mine."
"Beru, quit acting your age!" Owen retorted from the stairwell leading to the power room.
"And what’s that supposed to mean?" She shouted back. Owen ignored her. Beru made herself some caf and fed the fire, staring into it, mad and melancholy. So much for her private pledge to allow Owen more of a leadership role in their marriage.
Here’s your future Beru.
After an hour or two, long after night, the whirring rang out... the power was on. Immediately there were squeaks and scampering feet. The womp-rats were leaving. Presently, Owen appeared, dirty and about to drop from exhaustion. He helped himself to some caf and food in silence.
The meal passed by in a quarter of an hour and finally Owen spoke, "Cut it out with the attitude Beru. I’m no happier than you are about this, but we need to make the best of it. That’s what we agreed to when we married."
"Maira said we were too young."
"Too young?" His eyes shot up, "For what?"
"Marriage," Owen shook his head, which annoyed Beru. "Don’t blow me off," she said. "A minute ago you said I was acting my age. Is that how you look at me? Like a kid? A freshman invading your dormitory?"
Owen sighed, "Beru, I’m too tired to get into this, and so are you. Let’s turn in, it will be better in the morning."
But it wasn’t.
Beru was lonely. She only saw Owen during meals and when she brought him water as he worked. While he was at the markers, trying to get the moisture crop on schedule, she cleaned the house from top to bottom. Her hair was cut short now. It helped her keep cool, but it marked a change in herself and Owen. Even though Owen never said it, he missed her hair at night. He would not stroke her short hair, or bury his head into her shoulder, inhaling her scent. That scent had come from the perfumed shampoo she used. Now there was no hair to perfume.
Even if she did have her tresses, Beru doubted Owen would pay much attention to her at night. He usually collapsed in the evening from exhaustion, too tired to shower or eat.
The next morning was the same.
Beru was fixing breakfast in the kitchen. No fancy caff, or stim tea recipes, just a basic meal. Owen always wolfed it down appreciatively commenting, "Reminds me of the time back on my Dad's farm."
Beru did not reply to such remarks. She was never a farmer and had always been a city girl, with droids to help her.
"As soon as the harvest comes, I'll get you some help, Beru," Owen told her at least three times a day.
This morning, as Beru was cleaning up and drinking milk, she heard a whirring noise. She walked out in to the open courtyard and saw a Skyhopper land. Beru walked closer and saw a figure emerge, a young man.
"Howdy!" He greeted pleasantly, removing goggles and large gloves.
"You may not know me, but I heard about you from the folks at Anchorhead."
Beru smiled politely. "Come inside, I'll get you something."
The man shook his head. "Just have enough time to give you an invitation. The Boonta Eve race is coming up. We all have a get together. Maira thought you and your husband would like to come along."
"Boonta Eve..."
"You've heard of it?"
"Yes." Beru remembered Padawan Anakin Skywalker and how she and Owen had soaked up every bit of information they could about his years on Tatooine, including the mysterious involvement in the Boonta Eve Race.
"Wasn't sure," the man commented, "sometimes offworlders don't like pod-racing."
"I enjoy it," Beru answered. "And I will answer for my husband. We'll be there."
"You what?" Owen exclaimed.
"I told him we'd be there," Beru casually answered as she wiped up the counter.
Owen was putting dishes into the sink, rolling up his sleeves as he cleaned. He threw a dish in unceremoniously, "Beru, you know we have to keep away from people."
"No, I don't! We never said that."
"It's too dangerous."
"Dangerous to have friends? Don't be ridiculous."
"Beru, we don't want the Sith to catch any traces--"
"You think the Sith is gonna be monitoring an Outer-Rim cook-out with a bunch of farmers watching a race?"
Owen shook his head. "I want to keep a low profile," he repeated.
"And I want to make some friends," Beru said and started crying.
Owen went silent before the display of emotion. He was too tired for this.
A flying dish brought him out of his lethargy. "Real mature, Beru," he said angrily. "You know that money doesn't grow on trees."
"I know, more than you. I'm the one scraping around to find our next meal in this dump."
The word hung in the air. Dump.
"Well, it's not Coruscant, is it?" Beru demanded.
"No," Owen answered slowly. "You never expected it to be, did you?"
"I don't know," Beru buried her face in her hands, then said what had been in her mind for weeks."Things have changed. What made us friends, made me like you, that's all gone. When we were together, in Coruscant, we had a hobby, our passion. That was taken away, and now I wonder if we have anything in common at all."
A long silence. "You're saying you're sorry we married," Owen stated.
"I feel that way sometimes, yes."
"Well, Beru, leave then," he paced about the kitchen, showing a rare display of passion. "You're young enough. You never had to marry me. I wanted to. I wanted you." Quieter, in a way that made him sound pathetic, "I've always wondered if you ever really loved me."
Beru shook her head, "I don't want to leave you, Owen. You know how I feel about divorce."
"Don't worry, there are no kids to traumatize," Owen said almost sarcastically. "I'll be happy here. As long as I've got work and some land, I'll be fine." He stalked out of the kitchen.
Beru thought about it. Maybe he was right. Just leave, go somewhere else, find a home and friends. And the Sith... she wasn't much afraid of that.
She walked down to her room and observed Owen sitting on their bed his head in his hands. When he saw her enter, he got up. "I'll sleep somewhere else."
Beru nodded.
Nothing changed in their schedule. Owen and Beru worked, met for meals, same as before. They just were no longer in the same bed. Beru did not miss that much because, even before, they were usually exhausted and fell into sleep every night in a manner that resembled unconsciousness.
Only, occasionally, Beru caught Owen looking like he was in pain.
"What's wrong? " Beru asked him once.
"Nothing," he mumbled, but she occasionally caught him holding his stomach.
What Beru did not know was that Owen was worried. That pain ate away at his stomach because he looked into his future and it was bleak. The thought of losing Beru did this to him. He could not comprehend what he would do once she left.
Beru did not know what to do either. Every time she thought about leaving she was stumped by practicalities. Owen was all that was left from her old life. The rest of her friends had been murdered, the Jedi were off limits to her, and her family was estranged. Yet as she continued to see Owen in physical pain, she was confused. Did she mean that much to him?
Then she sat up at night worrying. He did not mean the same to her. Beru knew that. She shouldn't have married him and was not even sure what love was.
Love is wanting what is best for someone else.
Beru felt the air around her begin to tingle. She sat up. What was it? Then as though seeing a re-run on the hologram she remembered the day she and Owen met the Sith.
But it was easier to be strong then. Beru protested.
One could muster courage and commitment when visibly threatened. But it was harder when the commitment was served as monotony blew the days away.
But the energy--The Force--got stronger. The room was heated. Beru then knew she was not alone in her room. She sat up.
"Hello?" Beru called out into the dark.
"What?" Owen's voice answered from the other room.
Beru was shaking, "Nothing, Owen." But she felt it. The Force. The Force wanted them together. She felt that she could touch it, speak to it, it was so clear.
Why should I stay with Owen? Because the Force wants it.
The Will of the Force. And how could she say no to it?
She fell into unconsciousness. And dreamed.
There was a bearded man, seated above the hole in their homestead. She approached him and recognized Qui-Gon Jinn.
She was unable to comprehend chronologically what was happening but she felt him show her the future without Owen. How a part of her would be gone, how he would be driven to near despair. And she couldn't bear it. Without Owen life was dark, cold...
The voice of Qui-Gon floated into her, "Maybe you can't see it now, you are young, but you are closer to love with Owen than the most romantic at heart ever will be. Follow the Force in the little ways."
Yes, she saw it. She was a Jedi in her heart, more truly self-sacrificing and serving than those who had the visible weapons of lightsabers and spaceships.
"Be a Jedi in your heart, in your actions and in your love. And the Force will be with you. Always."
She woke up and understood. She'd accept it now.
Beru walked over to Owen on his pallet that night. She sat next to him. He leaned up on an elbow.
"You want to talk about the divorce?" He was pale, but bravely facing what he had resigned himself to--a single life.
Beru shook her head, "No, I want to ask you to come to bed."
Nothing more was ever said of divorce, or monotony, or poverty, or boredom.
Every morning Owen went to work with the feel of Beru's lips on his as she said that she loved him.
And meant it.
DISCLAIMER: Uncle George owns it all etc. etc. etc.