Chapter 11

Billy Fields sat as still as he could on the high stool in the Conroy kitchen, his boot heels hooked into the rungs, his hands gripping the sides and his eyes on the smiling redhead whose corkscrew curls were completely out of control this humid day. The cook was shaving him and explaining to Anne how to do it. She was using one of Anne's father's English razors that had been borrowed with permission, and she showed the girl the angle on which to hold it and urged her to be gentle but firm when she stroked. Anne's forehead was creased with worry and anticipation.

"Oh, I'm not going to do it." She shook her head as Billy lifted his chin when Bess scraped down his thin throat several times and then up along the jaw line.

"Had a good razor, m'father's," the young man said after puffing out his cheek as he was told. "Lost m'pack an' everything in it when I got hit." He did not tell her that he had seen piles of bloody knapsacks and packs along with a tumbled mass of arms and legs behind the tent where his amputation took place.

Bess handed Anne the razor and showed her how to grip it with the handle between her fingers, rubbed some more soft kitchen-fat soap on the boy's other cheek, and then stood back. "Now girl, stretch his skin like I showed you and then slide that blade right down his face. Don't take off his ear. Hold it gently; not too tight." She chuckled, a deep rumble, and Billy smiled at her. His beard was dark and heavy, like the curly hair on his head and, like many black Irishmen, his eyes were blue.

Anne, tongue tip showing, eyes squinted in concentration, her heart pounding, did as she was told, in two-inch increments, holding her breath at times, her thumb stretching his skin. The only sound was the scrape of the razor and the girl's deep breathing.

Bess looked, touched the boy's cheek and made a face, pouting as she rubbed upward. "Do it again, honey. You done missed some." She stepped back. "Want him to look pretty, don'cha?"

Anne put water on Billy's face with her finger tips and did his left cheek again, working her way down to his bristly chin very carefully, getting her nose close to the gleaming razor, her lips clamped in concentration. Then she handed him the blade and stepped back, holding up a small mirror and breathing normally, licking her lips and managing a smile. "You best do around your mouth. Too many grooves and gullies for me."

He nodded, moved the mirror, glanced at her, smiled and shaved his upper lip and then his chin quickly and surely, making faces at himself as he stroked. Bess handed him a towel, and he wiped off the soap and looked in the mirror. "Not bad for a shilling. First time since I got home."

"Ha, not worth ha'penny." Anne laughed as put away the razor in its velvet-lined case.

They thanked Bess and went into the parlor and sat, holding hands, not speaking for some time, enjoying the sound of each other's breathing, watching the flock of dark birds on the front lawn. She noticed that he smelled a lot better and that his jacket was reasonably clean and neatly mended.

"You've an auntie in Philadelphia, don' you, Annie dear?" Billy asked, leaning back, releasing her hand and feeling his freshly shaved face, ignoring the throb in his stump.