Bird of Paradise
Описание книги
When Merryn O'Neill's fiance, Jake Hawkins, an officer with the Pacific Islands Regiment in Port Moresby, breaks off their engagement, so he can marry the daughter of his commanding officer, her world is torn apart.<br /> <br />Arriving reluctantly in Port Moresby to take up a prearranged flying position, Merryn doesn't envisage the magical spell this strange and seductive land, particularly one of its own people, will cast over her. But Merryn and Jake share a secret from the past Merryn can't forget. No matter how much she tries.<br /> <br />Set during the period of the Vietnam War, against a backdrop of evocative tropical heat, menace, and intrigue, <b><i>Bird of Paradise</i></b> explores the tangled emotions of love, loss, and betrayal, climaxing in dramatic and unexpected consequences.
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Rosemary Esmonde Peterswald was born in Ireland. She and her husband Rob were married in Papua New Guinea in 1966. For the past thirty years they have lived in Tasmania when not on their yacht, researching for their books on sailing, seafood, and wine in Australia and the Mediterranean. They have two daughters and five grandchildren.
They were sitting under a weeping willow in the garden of a small weatherboard cottage on the shores of the lake at Wangi in New South Wales, after Jake had returned from his tour of duty in Vietnam. It was a perfect late summer’s afternoon, with the sun’s warmth and the smell of newly mown grass. Before them, the photo of the thatched palm chapel at Karu Barracks in Port Moresby lay open on the table.
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Despite her pleadings to the convent, which ran the orphanage and organised the adoption, no one would tell Merryn where her baby was. Had he been adopted out? Or was he still in the orphanage waiting to go to new parents? Once she had even flown to Perth and gone to the convent. And as she waited for the door to open, she had seen a file of tiny boys, dressed all in grey, come out of the orphanage next door and enter the intricately carved doors of a stone church. For a moment, she stood rooted to the brick pavers of the porch, watching them march like little soldiers. Left. Right. They looked so rigid. Not giggling, pushing, and shoving like little boys should. Just as they entered the church, the door to the convent was opened by a decrepit stooped over nun, her head nearly reaching the floor, a walking stick in her right hand. She lifted her head as much as she could, which wasn’t far, just enough for Merryn to see into her kindly shrunken eyes. When Merryn told her that she wanted to see Sister Bernadette, she asked for Merryn’s name and if she was a relation. When Merryn said she was an old friend, the nun gave her a gentle smile.
‘I’ll ask if she can see you.’ She squinted her eyes. ‘She may be in chapel, but you can wait in here.’ Beckoning for Merryn to follow, she opened a set of double doors to a parlour.
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