The door slams loudly as Bill Hutchinson enters his home. Without second thought, he heads for the kitchen, unearthing a glass from the cabinet and a bottle of whiskey. In record time he’s at the dining room table, the table that the Hutchinson family gathered around on a nightly basis for supper, and pouring himself a glass. As per tradition, he threw a stone but tried to miss on purpose. He only hopes that he missed. He couldn’t bear to look and see if it made contact at all. He did not want the final image of his wife to be that of a battered figure sacrificed for a harvest. His children enter the home, spotting their fath...