Free The City Below by James Carroll Page A

shadows.
    On Tremont Street the air was cold and wet, blowing in from the harbor. The pavement glistened with the mist of a coming rain. The streetlamps wore halos.
    There were no cabs at the stand in front of the Parker House. At the curb, a limousine sat with its engine running, a driver at the wheel. Two men in business suits were standing at the open rear door, talking. As Terry and Didi approached, he recognized Ken O'Donnell. He had the accordion folder pressed under his arm.
    On an impulse, Terry did then take Didi's hand and go right up to the men.
    "Mr. O'Donnell," he said brightly.
    O'Donnell interrupted himself to look blankly at Doyle.
    "I'm one of the Young Dems, sir. Terry Doyle, from BC." Terry Doyle, ace bell ringer, bade slapper, junior candidate. "I wanted you to meet the girl who dropped everything to type those letters for you." Terry indicated O'Donnell's folder. "Not one of our regular crew, an emergency volunteer." Terry brought her forward. "This is Deirdre Mullen."
    O'Donnell could be imperious with his own people, but he understood that this was an outsider. "Hello, darling," he said warmly. "You did a great job tonight, and we appreciate it." He put his hand out When Didi took it, he turned her to his companion. "And say hello to Ted Kennedy."
    The sound hung in the air.
    Didi and Terry both turned slowly. Kennedy. He was looking at her, nodding. What occurred to Doyle to say was, You should see how she erases.
    Kennedy was a big man with dramatic features, a head of wavy dark hair, a powerfully dimpled chin, eyebrows that nearly touched above his nose. Doyle had rung a few doorbells himself by now, and he knew about smiling, but it was impossible that the warmth on Kennedy's face was not genuine.
    "How are you?" he asked, but with a rote inflection that contradicted the light in his face. He shook Didi's hand, then Terry's. "BC? You both go to BC?"
    Terry's heart sank, but before he could protect her, Didi let out a loud laugh. "Oh, no, Mr. Kennedy. Not me. I'm too smart to go to college!"
    Kennedy stared at her for a moment, then he laughed too. "So was I," he said. "
Much
too smart." He winked. "But not as smart as you, because I went anyway and hated it." He roared, a great, loud, infectious bark of a laugh that echoed off the walls of the buildings above them.
    Terry loved Didi for having put it that way, and for having so surely touched something in Kennedy.
    O'Donnell said to her, "But you're on the team now, right? We need you, Deirdre."
    Didi glanced at Terry, who nodded.
    "Yes, sir. I guess I am."
    "That's great." He squeezed her forearm.
    And Kennedy said, "My brother appreciates what you're doing for him." He looked right into Doyle's eyes.
    This Kennedy was less than a decade older than Doyle, the baby of the clan, the playboy who'd recently married a blond dish and who drove a convertible. Yet Terry felt as if the man had just blessed him. He veered from the thought, its association with priests. "We're working for your brother, but for the country too."
    "That's true. What's your name again?"
    "Terry Doyle."
    "And Deirdre Mullen," O'Donnell put in, demonstrating his skill—his first service to the family—at catching and keeping names.
    "Well, thanks, Terry," Ted said. "And thanks, Deirdre."
    "'Didi,' actually, Mr. Kennedy."
    Kennedy laughed again. "Then 'Teddy,' actually." And he leaned over quickly and kissed Didi's cheek.
    A moment later, Kennedy and O'Donnell were gone.
    Terry faced Didi. A soft rain had begun to fäll, but neither had noticed.
    Terry said, "Gosh, now you can't wash your face again."
    Didi, too moved to joke, stared at the darkness into which Kennedy's car had disappeared.
    "You're on the team, Didi. Handpicked by the head coach."
    She looked at him. "So I guess I better eat with you, huh?"
    "Yep." He took her elbow, and they walked to the Parker House entrance.
    "Wait a minute, Terry. Who's going to be there?"
    "The kids you met already, or if you didn't meet