Larry Stotten stood underneath the oak tree and watched Jenny scrabble up the wood slats that had been nailed into it, forming a ladder to the tree house above.

“Daddy built it for us,” said Jenny. She paused. “Not Patrick. My real dad. He died.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m lucky I got two good daddies. Some kids don’t even get one.”

Larry’s newly beating he…