Many thanks to all who reviewed. Feedback makes my day. Sorry for the delay, Renee; a nasty attack of DRL. Welcome, Ash Darklighter, I'm an admirer of your stories, so I was pleased to hear you liked this one.
Chapter Twenty-One: Asking Ann Landers
Beru often missed her mother, much more than she had ever thought she would. After all, she had been a Da's girl, and at the time of the accident in which her family died, she and her mother had been on poor terms. Seventeen is a difficult age, Beru thought, and when your adolescent daughter is a Force-strong, and you're not, forget it. Beru had loved her father, with whom she shared the Force; she had considered her mother a bore and a nag who favored her sons over her daughter.
It had not really occurred to Beru, either as a child or as an adolescent, that her parents had not been happy together. But looking back from an adult perspective was a different story. From a distance, she could see that her father had been a charming, feckless man, who drifted from project to project (each one absolutely guaranteed-he was certain--to make their fortunes) leaving his increasingly bitter wife to cope with the messes he made. He had used his rather limited Force abilities to coast through life. The seventeen-year-old Beru had seen only his charm and his sweetness, not his weakness. In retrospect, she did see it, however, and it frightened her.
My judgment is nothing to boast about, she thought. Maybe I was attracted to Ben because he resembled my father. The conscious charm was the same, though Ben is much stronger--I think. And then there was Owen. She simply did not know what to do about him. Or, indeed, how she felt about him. I need a clean-minded older woman to give me some advice here, Beru thought. You now have your revenge, Ma. I miss you-so much. More than Da. Bet you never thought you'd hear me say *that,* did you? Well, you just did. A decade late, maybe, but late is better than not at all.
Beru sighed, and decided that clean-mindedness was not an absolute prerequisite. That's how she found herself sitting opposite Madame Rijdan, balancing a cup of celadon tea on her knee. Beru and Owen had come back from Vaduz with the baby for the big event. They were scarcely on speaking terms once again, for Beru could not dissuade Owen from fighting Ben. His absolute stubbornness on this question exasperated her.
Madame Rijdan had not changed a bit. She was still large, loud and thoroughly overpowering, but Beru needed advice, and was getting rather desperate.
"Well, honey, what is it?" Madame Rijdan said, smiling toothily, and noting Beru's very evident nervousness. "I'm sure you're very proud of your hubby, aren't you? We were awfully impressed that he wanted to fight your abductor. It's not often you see an offworlder with such proper values."
"I don't *want* him to fight!" Beru blurted out.
Madame Rijdan looked taken aback. "Why not?"
Beru drew in her breath, "The abductor is his brother," she said.
There was a short silence; then Madame Rijdan gave her a narrow look, and said, "Well, do you want to explain to me what's actually going on here? Or not?"
Beru later decided that the Bakaniri had a decidedly negative effect on her truthfulness. She found herself telling Madame Rijdan a thoroughly ridiculous tale--Ben would have been startled to find himself playing the role of the Jealous Elder Brother. Madame Rijdan, however, was a thorough Bakaniri. That meant she loved melodramas, the wilder the better, so Beru supplied one. She filed Luke's actual paternity and their Jedi status under 'audience-does-not-need-to-know' in her internal filing system, however.
"Let me get this straight," Madame Rijdan said. "You were engaged to this elder brother, Ben, once, right?"
Beru nodded, and devoutly hoped that neither Ben nor Owen would ever hear this story.
"And he didn't take it well when you broke it off?"
Beru shook her head.
"And he was even less happy when you took up with his younger brother?"
Beru nodded again.
"Hmmm. And you're afraid your husband thinks you're still in love with his brother?"
"Yes. That's why he's fighting. I'm sure of it." In fact, she wasn't sure at all why Owen was fighting. He had refused to discuss it with her, other than to inform her, infuriatingly, that she wouldn't understand it if he did.
"You gotta have faith, honey. He's wants to defend his womenfolk; I call that admirable, don't you?"
"No!" Beru cried. "I have to talk him out of it! I don't want him hurt! Or Ben, either, for that matter."
In choked voice, she then admitted Owen's suicide attempt on Vaduz. This caught Madame Rijdan's serious attention.
"Well, I thought he was one of those types that take things too much to heart. Some men are like that."
"What should I do?" Beru almost wailed. "I've talked to him, I've nagged, I've yelled. Nothing works! He won't listen!"
Madame Rijdan gave her a pitying look.
"All I can say, honey, is: your education sure has been neglected! You want to change a man's mind, you don't *talk* to him."
"Then what do you--" Beru began. The speech withered on her lips under Madame Rijdan's scornful glance.
"You use the weapons you were born with, honey. Though it's obvious to me that you need some serious coaching in *that* department! Not to worry, however. You've come to the right place."
Beru devoutly hoped so, because the 'coaching' resulted in her ending up in the bedroom she shared with Owen, wearing little more than a transparent negligee and a permanent blush. This time she had managed to fight off-just barely--Madame Rijdan's attempt to curl her hair and apply heavy cosmetics to her face. She considered the negligee bad enough, but her mentor had insisted.
She had also insisted upon babysitting Luke. Beru had been extremely dubious about this; but to her surprise, Madame Rijdan's mesmerizing effect on Luke held true. He had been bourne off by that lady triumphantly. He made little protest, beyond staring reproachfully at Beru over Madame Rijdan's shoulder.
Owen had been working out each day to prepare for the duel. He came in looking hot, sweaty, and a bit grumpy. Beru suppressed a desire to snatch a sheet from the bed and cover herself with it. How stupid is that? she thought to herself. It's not as though he hasn't seen it all before. Well, as much as he could with the lights out. The lights weren't out today.
"I had to wait nearly half an hour for a practice room--" Owen began on a complaining note. He stopped, staring at her.
Beru stared back at him.
After a pause, during which he took in her appearance, Owen looked around the room, noting the lit candles and expensive Azerant wine Madame Rijdan had insisted upon. "Am I interrupting something here?" he asked sarcastically. "You expecting company?"
"Sure am," Beru said, wondering if she looked as absurd as she felt. "You."
"Seems to me we've had this conversation before," Owen said. "What's my line, again? Oh, yeah--- Beru, is this your notion of a seduction?"
"No, it isn't," Beru said crossly. She nearly mentioned Madame Rijdan, but decided against it. Owen was a stickler for privacy. She suspected this trait was cultural. Tatooine, his home planet, was a strange place. It was controlled by the Hutts, notorious for their corruption and dissolute ways; but the settlers who inhabited its outer regions were very different--poor, proud, hard-working and self-sufficient. And, according to repute, very, very straight-laced. This last trait was perhaps bred into the bone by the isolation of their lives. Beru, brought up on a crowded space ship, had different notions, but Owen's self-consciousness in this area affected her adversely, in her opinion.
"Then why are you doing it?" Owen asked, very quietly.
Beru sighed. "What do you think?" she asked. She was briefly cheered to note the fact that Owen was trying to look away but not succeeding.
"You want to talk me out of the duel."
"Give the man first prize," Beru said, covering her acute embarrassment with a veil of sarcasm.
"Shouldn't I be insulted?" Owen said. His voice was almost pleading.
"I don't know, should you? After all, you're the romantic one. I wanted something that would appeal to you. And after all my trouble, it doesn't."
Owen hesitated. "I wouldn't say that, exactly," he said, carefully.
Beru's embarrassment flared into anger. "Well, too bad," she said. " I'm not romantic, Owen. Not at all. So if this doesn't--exactly--appeal to you, we'll do it my way."
"Which is?" Owen asked defiantly.
Beru grinned suddenly. Her self-consciousness deserted her--and she didn't miss it. She gave Owen a sweet smile. "Why don't you come over here and find out?" she said softly.
Owen blushed. "Beru, not now, I'm all sweaty--"
"Sweat doesn't bother me a bit. Scared?"
Owen's chin went up. "No," he said grittily.
"Well, then--"
Owen made a final protest. "Beru, the *lights* are on!"
"So they are," Beru said, calmly. "Duly noted."
"Can't we turn them off?"
"Not this time, Owen. My terms, remember? You're going to get an eyeful. Let me amend that-even more of an eyeful than you're currently getting. And so am I. Who knows, you might even enjoy it better that way."
(To be continued....)