“I brought up the inscription in answer to your question about our guests,” said the baron. “As you can see, we are a small family who has been blessed with an enormous home, capable of housing twenty families. Even with our servants and farm laborers, which are not nearly so numerous as in former times, much of this grand edifice sits vacant.”

The baron paused, took a drink of coffee and a bite of the cake which sat on a small plate in his lap, then went on.

“For a number of years, we have found ourselves blessed with frequent visitors and guests. Some from the neighborhood, some from the larger cities, others from far away. How it began has puzzled even Marion and me. But almost from the moment we were married—what is it now, Liebchen, twenty-one years?”

“Ja, Heinrich,” his wife said, smiling at him, “einundzwanzig.”

“During nearly all that time we have found people coming to our estate here in the country. At first they were mostly friends of ours, then friends of those friends, until gradually, I suppose, word quietly spread that there was a place in the country to which anyone might go for a day or two of peace and solitude. It is nothing we sought, or seek even now. But we have been blessed by it and now consider the guest rooms of Lebenshaus as important as our own chambers. We always keep several made up, aired, and ready for occupancy at a moment’s notice.”

“Very interesting. What do people do when they come?”

“There’s no set agenda, if that is what you mean. Sometimes we talk, sometimes they keep to themselves. The grounds have a calming and soothing effect. Many have commented or written to us afterwards that they have been forever changed by their time here. Some come especially to see the garden.”

“Yes, I have heard of your garden.”

“Whatever their reasons, whoever may come has always been welcome at Lebenshaus, and though in this life I may perhaps wear a title of some ancient significance, when guests are here, I consider myself their servant. We are here, and our estate is here, dedicated to life, Thaddeus… life—in whatever manner God chooses to give it, and however much, to those who come.”

The room grew silent, as each considered the implications of the baron’s words.

The rest of the day passed quickly, not without a tour of the grounds and a preliminary stroll through the garden. The hour was late before they retired, the baron more pleased than ever at his two new friends who had, before the afternoon gave way to evening, passed well beyond the threshold of mere acquaintance.

12 A Morning in the Garden

12

A Morning in the Garden

“I knew I would find you here, Papa!”

“Sabina,” exclaimed the baron, turning his head around with a startled expression. “What brings you out so early?”