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Owen drags the water drum a little further along, pushing through the way exhaustion pulls heavy at his gut. The suns were fierce today, fiercer than they should be this late in the year. Maybe it’s just to spite him.
With a half-felt grunt Owen pulls the drum into place, using his foot to kick it the last few inches. It’s a grind even when these things are empty, but maybe it’s wishful thinking to ever think they’ll get very full. It’s been a dry year.
He sighs, shifting his shoulders so the sweat-soaked shirt on his back unsticks from his skin. The wind shifts, bringing the smell of burnt sand and parched throats. And, also, voices.
He follows the round curve of the homestead to see Beru carrying Luke, coming out now that it’s dusk and the suns aren’t so oppressive in their shining. Beru shifts her hold on Luke, tucking him closer on her hip. He squirms a little when Beru smears sun-paste on his chubby cheeks; it paints blue-white streaks against his pink face.
He’s two. He’s getting so big.
Luke’s talking; he’s at the stage now, though he seems to have a particular affinity for it. Words tumble out of that kid’s mouth on-and-on. Beru responds in kind, looking when Luke throws out his small hand to point at nothing in particular, humming when his eager sentences seem to end.
Luke turns back to Beru, his voice peaking with a particular insistence. Owen can’t understand what he’s saying from here, and he’s sure Beru is only getting half of it. That boy goes as fast as a meteor.
Beru hasn’t noticed Owen yet, for which he’s grateful. It’s nice to see her like this, her hair down, her smile easy. The pink-purple-blue of the setting suns paints her golden hair and skin in shining color. He beats back the guilt gnawing at his gut with the way her smile widens when she meets Luke’s eyes for the small moment he can focus long enough. She adjusts the floppy hat on his head, making sure it’s pulled over his ears.
“Luke.” She says, though Luke is distracted by staring out at the horizon. “Luke.”
The kid looks back at her, then, and gets entranced by her wide eyes and smile. He knows the feeling.
“Luke, can you count the suns for me?” She says. Beru’s been on a real counting kick, lately. She wants to make sure he doesn’t fall behind, though the most people count on Tatooine is debts and water rations. “How many suns does Tatooine have?”
Luke sits there for a second, and then holds up two fingers, and then pushes them closer to Beru’s face. He knows that one well; one bantha, two suns, three eopie.
Instead of her usual enthusiasm at Luke counting to two, she tuts, a playful smirk on her face. “Well, I count three suns.”
Owen snorts, wondering what exactly she’s on about. Luke looks back down at his fingers, a furrow in his face. Beru turns slightly, adjusting her grip on Luke so she can point out at the horizon where the suns are low in the sky.
“There’s one.” She says, pointing to the lower red sun.
“Two.” She lifts her hand higher, to her namesake white sun.
Then she twirls her finger in the air, looping round and round. Luke follows it, his small head turning, until she swoops it down and pokes Luke in his belly. “Three!”
Luke instantly laughs, curling around her as she tickles his stomach and legs. His legs kick out happily, giggling every time Beru so much as scrunches her fingers before tickling him again. Owen lets out a breath. The kid’s laugh still knocks him out.
Beru pulls Luke tight against her, pressing loud and fast kisses on Luke’s face. Luke ducks away from them, twisting, and then he catches sight of Owen.
“‘Wen!” He says, and squirms to be let down. Owen smiles at the nickname; the kid has trouble connecting the “o” and “w” sounds. Not that he’d ever mind being Luke’s ‘Wen. Beru swings the toddler down to the ground, steadying him at his torso and holding him like a podracer at the starting line.
“Go get him.” She says. Luke runs toward him as best he can, still a little wobbly, his arms bouncing.
That’s okay, though. Owen’s here to catch him.
Owen pulls him up from his armpits, using the momentum to sweep him up into the air. Luke squeals as he giggles, kicking his arms and legs out. He loves flying like this. Owen swings him around a few more times and then pulls the kid against his hip.
“Hey, kid.” Owen says. “Big day today?”
“Yeah,” Luke says, and then points back to Beru, before his eyes go wandering again. “Play with Ru.”
“You played with Beru?”
“Yeah.” Luke nods, his small fingers playing with Owen’s collar. “Hot outside.”
Owen chuckles. “Yeah, it is hot outside. Don’t worry, we’ll go in in a minute. Gotta watch the suns set.”
“Suns-set?” Luke says, the words kind of sliding all together.
“Yep.” Owen says, and then lifts Luke up and behind him so the kid can sit on his shoulders, keeping firm, steady hands on Luke’s legs. “See?”
He can’t tell if Luke is seeing from where he sits above him, but the kid gets a little more still. Beru comes to his side, wrapping an arm around Owen’s waist, and tucks her head against his chest just where Luke’s foot hangs.
The red sun is just dipping under the horizon, and the pink has faded into purple, darkening more every other moment. The mountains to the south become shapes of magenta and indigo. Beru’s the one that started pulling him out here to watch them set most nights, something beautiful about another day lived. He may not like the suns very much during the day, but he’s not so bitter as to shun their beauty.
He can feel Luke’s fingers tangle in his hair and him squirm just a little bit. Maybe he’s a little too young to really appreciate a suns-set, but it’s the thought that counts.
Then, Luke says, “Pretty.”
Owen’s smile gets a little wider on his face. “Yeah, it is.”