In the rugged landscapes of Montana, the Dutton legacy endures, not just in the sprawling ranches and vast plains but in the fiery spirit of Beth Dutton and her daughter, Spencer Hope, but everyone affectionately calls her "Penny". As Beth imparts t...
The soft glow of the evening sun painted Spencer's room in warm hues as she sat on her reading nook, staring out the window. A knock interrupted the quiet, and without waiting for a response, Beth entered. The room, once a haven for imagination and adventure, now held a palpable tension.
Beth approached Spencer, who remained fixed on the view outside, avoiding eye contact. The silence lingered until Beth spoke, her voice carrying a plea for understanding. "Penny, please—" Spencer's gaze finally met her mother's, eyes slightly red and puffy, evidence of the tears shed before.
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Cutting through Beth's attempt to explain, Spencer's tone turned harsh, "If you're just going to lie to me or keep secrets, you can leave." Beth placed a comforting hand on Spencer's head, but the gesture was met with resistance. Spencer shifted away, her frustration palpable.
Beth began, "Baby, I know everyone's been busy, and we haven't been around as much, but I promise it's—"
Spencer interrupted, her words slicing through the air, "Don't say it's to save the ranch or the family because that's crap, and you know it. Uncle Lee is dead, Grandpa's dying, Uncle Kayce's family is falling apart, Uncle Jamie is not talking to anyone. You and Daddy are never around, and when you are, it's just empty promises and sorrys."
Beth was struck silent, realizing the weight of Spencer's knowledge. She hadn't comprehended how much her little girl had shouldered alone. Sensing Spencer's reluctance to share more, Beth decided not to push.
The room fell into an uneasy stillness as Spencer continued to gaze out the window, her face devoid of emotion. Beth bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Spencer's head. "I love you so much, baby," Beth whispered, but Spencer remained unmoved, her emotional fortress intact.
A single tear escaped Beth's eye as she left the room, gently closing the door behind her. Before the soft click, Beth added, "Dinner should be ready soon. I can bring you a plate or have Gator save you one." The door sealed off the room, leaving Spencer alone with her thoughts and the fading light of the day.
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The dining room table, once a hub of familial warmth, now echoed with the solitude of Beth and John. The room was set for more, yet only two occupied the seats. As John calmly ate his dinner, Beth, on the other hand, couldn't suppress the tears welling in her eyes. She spoke amidst the quiet, her voice carrying a mixture of sorrow and frustration, "You should buy a smaller table, Dad."
John, wiping his mouth with a napkin, responded with a reminiscing gaze, "I remember a time when... every seat at this table was filled."
Beth, looking at him with a pang of reality, rebutted, "No, you don't, Dad. That's not a memory. That's a dream."
Her words hung in the air as Beth abruptly stood, leaving John sitting alone at the expansive table. Beth retreated, finding solace in the smoke of a cigarette.
Later, John ventured outside, seeking Beth on the front lawn. She stood there, her gaze lost in the vastness of the mountains. Beth acknowledged his approach without turning, "I thought you said Kayce came home?"
John confirmed, "He did."
Beth inquired, "Where is he?"
"He's learning," John replied. "It doesn't matter how many people sit at the table, honey. What matters is they have a place to sit. The table's the only thing that matters. I need you to understand that."
Beth, locking eyes with her father, expressed her motives, "I'm not doing this for a table. I'm doing this for you. And when you're gone... I'll sell the table first."
John insisted, "Well... I'm not going anywhere."
Beth met his gaze and said with a hint of vulnerability, "I sure hope not." She hugged her father briefly before walking away.
Returning to the lodge, Beth caught sight of Spencer sitting alone at the dining room table, eating in solitude. Beth chose not to disturb her, but the sight only deepened the melancholy within her. The once lively space now carried the weight of unspoken truths and the silent echoes of an uncertain future.
