Owen wrapped his arm around Beru, more to steady himself than anything else. He was not a sentimental man, but he couldn't believe how tiny the infant was. Beru smiled as she laid a finger to the slumbering baby's smooth skin. She beamed up at her husband.
"His skin is so soft," she told him, a gentle brightness alight in her eyes. "Here." She reached out for Owen's hand, but he recoiled when she began to draw it near the child's face. The baby was so small and delicately beautiful that Owen had the strange feeling that he might harm it with his touch.
"Beru looked surprised, but once she met his eyes, her confusion melted into warmhearted amusement. "You're afraid, Owen!" she realized, looking at him in wonder and with love.
"I'm not," Owen replied gruffly, indignantly, feeling defeated by the depth of Beru's insight.
"You don't need to worry; it's all right," Beru said soothingly, and slowly, with her own work-worn hand, she brought the backs of Owen's calloused fingers to the baby's soft skin. It was an unfamiliar sensation, smooth and silky, so unlike Tatooine with its coarse sand and hard labor.
"Luke," Beru whispered, her eyes focused on the sleeping infant.
"Luke," murmured Owen, becoming aware of the silent joy that lit the features of his young wife.
He drew her more securely to his side as they watched the twin suns sink below the horizon. Tomorrow would dawn a new day and begin a new period of their lives.