Heroes and Angels

By J.M. Norwood

Set in a sci-fi/fantasy background, Heroes And Angels tells the story about Dorman Tapson, an astrophysicist whose experiences of the supernatural change the world forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 9, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452099408

J.M. Norwood

J.M. Norwood resides in the greater New York City area. Heroes and Angels is her second novel; her first book, The Twelfth Window, is also available on authorhouse.com .

Book preview

Contents

The House with the Blue Door

The Second Sun

The Four Walls of Doubt

Taps

The House with the Blue Door

During a clear, winter day, you can see all the way to the last house at the far end of a rough, one-lane road. On windy days, sand from the beach lightly dusts the pavement, the way confectioners’ sugar might coat cake or candy. This road has no name; it simply juts out from the main two-lane highway that leads to and from the city. There are no signposts marking the exit. It takes, without speeding, forty-five minutes to get to this road from Lake Shore High School.

The beach house itself is unassuming, unlike the other bungalow-styled homes on this road. Shrubs surround it on both sides, while the nearest neighboring home is around thirty paces away. The gravel driveway leads to a wood-framed house with a small front porch. Its front door is painted nearly the same blue as the ocean behind it. Dark-blue drapes serve as dressing for the one window facing the front. There is one sparsely furnished but large living room decorated with beige carpeting, one windowed kitchen large enough to eat in, a dining room, a den, and there are two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The dining room leads to a much larger deck off the back of the house. The back deck has weatherworn outdoor furniture; the chairs are arranged around a large, circular wooden table. This wooden table appears to be the center of activity -- more about that later. Down the back of the deck, a steep set of sturdy, wooden stairs leads to a tall, wooden and unpainted gate, and opens directly onto the beachfront. The owner of this particular beach property has neglected to spend money to update it the way other residents of this anonymous road have done to theirs. That is why it stands out, and one needs no house number to locate it.

Equally unassuming as this house are the residents. Every morning, the four members of this household -- graduates of Lake Shore High School -- rise at dawn to bake and cook. But not just for themselves. The residents -- Richard DeLane, Jenny Marjane, Kimberly Eugenia Joelson and Dorman Tapson -- prepare and distribute meals for an increasing number of needy denizens from nearby towns. (They invited the writer of this article to lend a hand but in order to bring our readers a more unbiased story, the writer declined.) No flyers advertising this service are evident; word-of-mouth is what brings the less fortunate to the house with the blue door. As the day rolls on, the early-morning scent of fresh-baked bread gives way to the smell of homemade soups and sandwiches. The brewed coffee seems never to run out. The recipients of this service line up cheerfully and gratefully -- the providers of it give cheerfully and gratefully as well. DeLane, Marjane, Joelson and Tapson (left to right in the photo above) may appear tired at the close of a busy day -- as today turned out to be -- but they regularly close the hours of charitable giving with almost empty cupboards (so they informed the writer of this article). As the sun sets, DeLane, Marjane, Joelson and Tapson take time out to rest on the back deck, around the large wooden table previously mentioned. The photograph below does not give them justice, but the plate, utensils and cups that rest on this table appear worth more than the real estate value of the entire neighborhood. When this writer inquired into how these came into the possession of the residents, Tapson answered that they were left with them. Reason leads this writer to believe they either they came with the house or they are heirlooms.

At dusk, the gang -- Richard DeLane, Jenny Marjane, Kimberly Eugenia Joelson and Dorman Tapson welcome another visitor at their door; it is not one of the needy but their mentor, Mrs. Elizabeth Chess. She assists DeLane, Marjane and Joelson in taking inventory of what non-perishable items they will need for the next day. Not only does she help them take inventory; whatever can be made from scratch she cooks and bakes in her kitchen at home. For anyone else, the hard work of transporting containers of prepared meals and coordinating the activities would be taxing, but the red-haired matron shows no signs of wearying of her work. Tapson informed the writer of this story that they intend to open a full-time soup kitchen in town. He and his roommates plan to buy Dave’s Café, a now-defunct diner on Liston Street, in the Ingleside district of town. The restaurant closed two summers ago upon the death of the owner, David Lechner. Tapson waxes ebullient when he describes to this writer his plans of renovating and reopening the property. He is enthusiastic about this endeavor; he becomes animated and he uses his hands to paint a vivid picture of his vision. His friends are equally ardent about opening the soup kitchen.

In the evening, Tapson, DeLane, Marjane, Joelson and Chess begin the most mysterious portion of the day. They gather around the large table on the back deck and share a meal, using the richly appointed heirlooms, served and eaten as if they were hosting a state dinner. Although the fare is sparse, their conversation is hearty. Tapson both opens and closes the formalities with an informal invocation. He says that although he has considered studying and training with the scribes, he prefers to help the poor in any way he can. He has not eschewed higher education; he is studying astrophysics and has just accepted a part-time teaching job that will turn into a full-time professorship. Marjane has set her sights on law practice (changed from a major in business administration), and is studying at Meridan. DeLane is studying political science and history at State. Joelson has decided to forego her degree and dedicate her life full-time to service to the poor. There is no mention of Mrs. Chess’s daughter, Lisa -- a childhood friend of DeLane, Marjane and Joelson and also a graduate of Lake Shore High School. Lisa Chess disappeared two summers ago, weeks after an automobile accident injured her and claimed the life of another student of Lake Shore -- the son of the owner of the aforementioned Dave’s Café. Nor is there mention of James Chess, Elizabeth Chess’s estranged husband. Mrs. Chess is the heart of this makeshift family.

While most of Lake Shore High School graduates travel far and wide to make their mark on the world, Jenny Marjane, Richard DeLane, Kimberly Joelson and Dorman Tapson are determined to stay on and give back to the wider community, a truer and oftentimes better way of honoring the long legacy of Lake Shore High School on its seventy-fifth anniversary.

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Will you look at this?

The secretary held in her hand a sealed white envelope. It was taped shut. The front of the envelope, in bold, black, typographic lettering, was marked LS HS. Her boss swiveled around in her desk chair to face the woman. She took the envelope, eyed the cryptic initials for a moment and set it down on the edge of her immense, glass desk. She swiveled back in her chair and kept perusing the magazine layout on her lap. She waved dismissively.

I’ve already registered for the convention. If those are my tickets from the travel office then open it and make sure I have the seating that I requested, she directed without looking up from her work. And before I leave tonight, phone Jett at the convention office to make sure he received my message about our booth placement. Is the car waiting for me?

No ma’am, I…

The executive interrupted her. Why isn’t it? I told Cat to have it here by now, she said in an exasperated tone. She looked up from her work, looked to the ceiling and breathed a heavy sigh. Not your fault. Just take one of the vouchers and—

Ma’am, those aren’t tickets, the secretary said in a small voice, taking a tiny step back. The tone in her voice gave the executive pause. She swiveled back again to face the other woman, but this time she set the layout on her desk. The woman’s downcast gaze spoke volumes.

Send Gazzie in, the executive ordered in an even tone. She refused to give away any sign of fear or weakness. She reached for the glass of water on her desk and took measured sips; the secretary turned and walked out of the office, closing the door respectfully behind her.

Gazzie was a spritely, small-framed young woman who ate little but used to drink every day. She was the go-to person in the building if anyone there wanted to learn the latest office gossip. Gazzie could practically see through sealed, opaque envelopes, as long as their contents were of confidential nature. She would make her way around the steel-and-concrete hallways of the office without being seen, yet she was everywhere at once. Gazzie was an alumnus of Lake Shore High School; once she graduated, she made it her first order of business to move as far away as possible from her town, her weight and her home—where she used to live with her overbearing aunt and her disabled cousin.

The executive kept sipping the water but eyed the envelope as if it were a caged animal, a living and breathing thing unwelcome in her office suite. She pulled her sweater closer around her shoulders and crossed her legs. She unconsciously wiggled her right foot and drew deep breaths.

If this is the end of the line, then screw ‘em, she said to herself. What seemed to be hours later, the secretary returned with Gazzie. The secretary left the two women in the office alone.

What happened? Gazzie asked, wide-eyed, taking a seat in front of the executive’s desk. The executive uncrossed her arms and motioned with her eyes at the white envelope on the corner of the desk. Gazzie grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. There were three white sheets inside, fastened together at one corner and folded into thirds. As both their hearts pounded, Gazzie took the three-page letter out of the envelope and tossed the envelope to the side. She unfolded it and paused.

Well. Go ahead, the said the executive. I’m resigned to my fate, she said, near tears.

Gazzie read the letter. She scrunched up her face and began to snicker as she read it further, turning the leaf to the second page. The executive leaned forward, anxious to hear the news she was afraid to face on her own, yet dreading it.

Is this what you’re worked up about? No way, Gazzie chortled. It’s not a sixty-six. Gazzie didn’t look up, but kept reading.

Then what in the world is it? And why did Mira send it with an official stamp from the boss’ office?

I have no idea. But it’s an old article from the home rag about your brother and his weird friends. Awww, look, they even took pictures, Gazzie tittered without looking up.

The executive leaned across her desk, snatched the three-paged, photocopied letter from Gazzie and skimmed the article for herself. The third page bore a light-blue stamp, with time and date, from the boss’s assistant’s desk.

So what? Are we the only Tapsons in the world? I look nothing like Dorman, anyway. He used to tease me that I was adopted. Psh! He’s the one they picked up off their doorstep, the executive said.

Rae, there may be other Tapsons in the world, but they did not all graduate from Lake Shore High School. L-S-H-S… that must be what the letters on the envelope stand for, Gazzie said.

Oh well. False alarm, Rae said, setting the letter aside—way aside. I hate that woman, she said under her breath.

Mira uses her power admirably; she had you scared to death.

If she weren’t working for the boss, she’d be pumping gasoline somewhere.

Don’t pay her any mind; you’re the one who got this job, not her. And who gave you this job? The very same boss whose power Mira uses to terrorize everyone at this magazine. Psh! Gazzie said as she cut her eyes away from Rae.

Next moment, a knock sounded at the office door. Come in, Gazzie called. The secretary poked her head in, expecting to see her boss broken down and weeping tears on her glass desk.

What is it? Rae said, looking up and looking better than she had ten minutes ago.

Another envelope, Ma’am, she replied. Rae Tapson waved her in and she brought a second envelope to her boss. It was identical to the one she delivered minutes ago.

Thank you. This time, Rae Tapson opened the envelope on her own, and in the presence of her secretary. She arched her eyebrows and pursed her lips. An upgrade. Works for me. Is my—

The car will be here in thirty minutes, Ms. Tapson, the secretary finished her sentence for her.

Job well done. I’ll see you next week, Rae said, turning her chair away from her secretary to close the conversation. The woman left the office again and closed the door behind her quietly.

Wretched woman, sending you two envelopes like that and making your assistant act like it was a sixty-six, Gazzie said at the closed office door. She rose from her seat, and then so did Rae.

I’m going to do something about it when I get back from the convention. Gazzie, you’re the best, Rae went around to the front of her desk and embraced Gazzie momentarily.

Friends in low places, Gazzie winked. Have a safe trip. Drinks on me next time. Ta, she said. And Gazzie was off.

Rae Tapson, afraid that Gazzie or her secretary might barge back into her office, surreptitiously gathered the first LS HS envelope and put it in a zippered compartment of her pocketbook. She placed the magazine layout, the second envelope with the travel tickets, and other important documents into her briefcase. Certain that she had everything, she drew a deep breath and darted out of the offices, glad to escape from under the weight of the big, steel and glass building.

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By now, the gang’s charitable operations had moved from Richard’s beach house to the Ingleside district of town at Mr. Lechner’s old diner on Liston Street—Dave’s Café—which they unanimously renamed BreadBasket. Dorman Tapson, Richard DeLane, Kim Joelson, Jenny Marjane, Amanda Alhearne, Amanecer Tessibee and her husband, Andrew Tessibee, had pooled their money together to reopen the restaurant; Elizabeth Chess covered the balance. Richard and Andrew found contractors on the cheap and had the diner inspected and remodeled. Elizabeth Chess and Jenny filed for and obtained permits for the remodeling; Dorman and Amanda procured the license to operate the soup kitchen. Right after Dorman and Richard affixed the sign above the entrance, low-income and no-income citizens of the Ingleside district and beyond started lining up at BreadBasket’s door. Amanecer and Andrew maintained the paperwork and records, while Richard was the on-site handyman. Elizabeth Chess, Jenny, Dorman and Kim, since they lived the closest and knew their way around a kitchen, provided the meals that they would distribute at BreadBasket.

From the very first day it opened, BreadBasket was a welcome addition to the neighborhood. Because David Lechner had been kind to his neighbors, the gang was often given donations to help run BreadBasket by managers of nearby businesses. Even the owner of the gas station near BreadBasket invited the gang to park their cars on the station property, if needed, while they worked. Although the general vicinity of Ingleside was on the rough side, the soup kitchen was entirely undisturbed. For months, Dorman and his friends labored in peace, effortlessly and worry-free; BreadBasket was an instant success. Now and then, a few of the poor would still show up at Richard’s beach house for their meals, but soon the word was out that BreadBasket was the place to go.

At Richard’s house, a knock sounded on the front door. Richard rose from the dining room table, where he was busy reading the local newspaper, and answered the door.

Mrs. Chess, come on in! he said. Elizabeth Chess returned his smile and walked in. He shut the door behind her.

It’s such a warm and sunny day out, isn’t it? she said as she followed Richard into the dining room, setting her purse on the kitchen counter.

It absolutely is. What’s in the knapsack? Richard asked, directing his eyes to the larger knapsack slung over her right shoulder.

Something I wanted to give all of you after we have supper, she answered. Just then, Kim, Amanda and Jenny came into the dining room from the back deck. All of them greeted Elizabeth Chess with warm hugs. Did I beat Dorman and Amanecer here? Dorman’s car isn’t in the driveway, she asked.

A dead man could beat Dorman here, Kim answered with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Better to be safe on the road.

Spoken like someone who has ridden with Brian G behind the wheel, Jenny said. The gang sat at the dining room table. Richard made sure to pull Elizabeth Chess’ chair out for her before taking a seat himself while Amanda headed into the kitchen. Elizabeth Chess hung the knapsack on the back of her chair.

We missed you at temple today, Mrs. Chess, Amanda said, taking glasses out of the cupboard.

Well yes, but I was so busy reading what’s in this knapsack that I lost track of the time. Amanda set the table and returned to the kitchen to take the large, glass juice pitcher out of the refrigerator. I knew by the time I reached the temple, two thirds of it would be done. So, I said my temple prayers at home. Thank you, Amanda, Elizabeth Chess said as Amanda poured her glass full of fruit juice. Did Elder Keystone speak today?

He did, yes, Jenny answered.

Did he say anything to any of you this time?

The others exchanged uncomfortable glances and nodded.

Hm ha, seems like a new Chess tradition, to always be on the verge of being thrown out of the temple, Elizabeth Chess said.

It’s for a good cause, Kim said, placing a hand on her shoulder. And if we were, we’d be in good company. I remember being there when Lisa asked Miss Dorado the question that most got us kicked out of temple. They all laughed.

Speaking of good company… our next door neighbor told me yesterday that she wants to start joining us on temple evenings, Elizabeth Chess informed the gang, her face beaming.

Actually, the other day another family came by right after you left and said they want to do the same, Richard informed Elizabeth Chess. We have so many new people that I’m not sure how we’re going to be able to fit them here. Jenny tapped Richard on his shoulder and shot him a disapproving look.

What’s the matter? Mrs. Chess said.

Nothing, Richard answered, taking a sip from his glass.

A mother knows. You want to ask me if you may use my home for temple evenings. Elizabeth Chess said.

I— Kim began to speak.

Well, yes, of course you may. Why, it would be an honor. Atael-In-Heaven has shown us favor far beyond what I’ve ever dared to hope. And…after all, I am Lisa’s mother. Mrs. Chess took another sip from her glass and chuckled for a moment. I never told you this before, but… I knew. I knew before Kim and Amanda came to my house that afternoon. The rest leaned in as they listened to Elizabeth Chess intently. "You see, around the middle of the morning, right after Lisa left home to go meet with all of you here, I went into my room to take a rest from cooking. Well, I had an intuition that I ought to pray at that time. My husband was already out and on his way into the office. I sat on my bed and closed my eyes. I was facing the window; I remember that, too. I said ‘O Atael, Giver of Life’ before I felt another intuition to rise from my bed and look out of the window.

"I saw a young man walking down the sidewalk and crossing the street towards the house. The leaves of the trees were blocking most of what I could see, but the young man looked and walked exactly like Michael. I drew a sharp breath and without thinking, I dashed to the phone in my room and I called over to David Lechner. I slammed the phone down right after that, because I just remembered that he had died. The next moment, I found myself sitting on my bed again in the exact place that I had before I began my prayers. And then, you kids, Michael was all of a sudden… there. He asked me some questions—but I could not see him—one after the other, about Lisa. I hate to say it, how dare I imagine that Atael-In-Heaven was asking my permission—me!—to bring Lisa away to Heaven. It only took a moment of time, but we had a long conversation. Then, after I gave my permission—me! Pah!—He blessed me, almost in the way a son would thank his mother for something. After that, it was over.

I thought I had let my imagination get the best of me. I buried this away and went back downstairs to cook some more, I felt a good dose of reality would be the way to get a perspective on everything. I knew I was upset because it was our last day together as a family before my daughter would go overseas to State; any mother would feel that way about her only child leaving home. I told myself that this was the cause of what had happened upstairs in my room. Yet, I felt at peace, a peace even stronger than the natural fears and sadness that any mother would have about her child moving away… And then, of course that afternoon two of you came to our house with the news, and thought I still miss my daughter Lisa—see how Atael-In-Heaven has blessed me!—I have four more daughters and two sons. Elizabeth Chess finished her story, looking at everyone around the table, first at Richard, then Jenny, Amanda, and Kim, with clear and strong eyes.

Which is a good thing—that I am your child now, since my folks still won’t speak to me, Kim replied.

Well, you have to admit, at the very least you would have been the first in your family to even go to college, Jenny said.

School of life, Kim responded with a smile. At that moment, Dorman and Amanecer arrived; the flavorful smell of carryout food arrived with them.

Hey-hey, you guys! Amanecer called. The gang rose from the dining room table to greet Amanecer, as Dorman set the bags of food on the dining room table.

After the table was set, all of them took their seats for supper. Dorman sat opposite Elizabeth Chess. Each of them exchanged looks; they were unable to decide who should lead the meal blessing. A few more uncomfortable moments passed before Kim spoke up.

I cannot believe that this is so confusing. Mrs. Chess has seniority, she said, gesturing to her left.

It’s Dorman who has to lead; it’s that simple, Mrs. Chess reminded them. Lead in the blessing, she said, bowing her head to wait for Dorman to speak. The rest of the gang followed suit. Dorman drew a deep breath, cleared his throat and raised a brief invocation in a quiet and even voice, as if he had been raised as a scribe his whole life. Once the blessing was called, their conversation resumed.

Mrs. Chess has something to show us after dinner, Jenny informed Amanecer and Dorman.

Yes, it’s right here on my chair, Elizabeth Chess said, motioning her head to her right shoulder. This is a very good supper, she added.

Yeah, Taps. Good choice. Surprised the food was still warm by the time you got home, though, Kim quipped.

Are you kidding me? We’d be chipping ice off the bags the way he drives. I drove us home from the restaurant, Amanecer said.

Are you making fun of my driving again? It’s not news, Dorman said, with a playful glint in his eye.

What’s not news: that you drive like an old man, or that I’m pointing it out? Kim answered, drinking from her glass.

You two fight like you were raised in the same house.

Well, when you use the word ‘fight,’ it implies that it’s an equal contest.

Richard was unable to stifle his laughter. Pass me the pitcher, Amanda, will you.

I’m a gentleman, which is why I go so easy on Kim, Dorman replied, taking a bite of food.

A Gentle Man, you definitely are.

All things considered, so are you, Dorman replied with a wide grin.

What are you saying? Kim said, chuckling aloud, while the rest joined in on the laughter. Mom, make him stop, she said, turning to Elizabeth Chess.

You broke it, you bought it, she replied.

Taps, I’ll let you have this one today, Kim said, rising from the table. I’m going to boil some water.

I think you pushed her too far this time, Taps, Amanda said with a giggle.

Yes, I’m going to brew a pot of ‘Too Far This Time’ tea… it’s a new brand, thought you guys might want to try it, Kim answered from the kitchen.

The dusk turned into evening over their meal; they traded laughs and shared news as they sipped on tea. Dorman cleared the table and took his seat again while Elizabeth Chess took the knapsack and placed it in the middle of the table.

Now, here is part of the reason why I missed temple today. She unbuttoned the blue knapsack, took