Honey said in English, “You heard Mrs. Lazarus. Take off your coats.” She clapped. “C’mon, people. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Quickly, the kids obeyed.

Honey turned to Rina. “It isn’t Lazarus anymore, is it?”

“It’s Decker.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, troops. Pile in.”

Slowly, the kids inched toward her Volvo. The girls crowded together on the left, the boys leaned to the right. They looked stunned, in complete contrast to Honey, who seemed joyous. She cranked down the backseat window and peered out expectantly. Rina slid into the driver’s seat and turned around to the back.

“Kids, you’re going to have to put on your seat belts.”

They glanced at each other, dumbfounded.

Honey began hunting around. “Seat belts. Like we wore in the airplane. They have them in cars.” She smiled at Rina. “In the village, all we have is old jalopies for major hauling. We never use cars for traveling. Everything’s in walking distance.” She reached over and pulled the harness belt. “Come on, kids. Cooperate.”

Rina felt the kids weren’t being stubborn. They were just confused. Buckling up took them another few minutes.

“Doesn’t Gershon work in the city?” Rina asked.

“Of course. The village owns a bus,” Honey said. “Several buses. The men take the bus into the city. Gosh, you should see how they’ve altered it. It has tables and benches for learning, and a bookcase full of sepharim. I was shocked when I first saw it. A bais midrash on wheels. Now I’m used to it. The women have their own bus, too, but we don’t use it very often. Everything we need is in the village. Good! We’re all set, Rina.”

Rina started the engine and pulled out of the loading zone. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she noticed the kids were still huddled together. Honey was oblivious to their uneasiness. She was too busy looking out the window.

“Look out there, kinder! Winter back home and here everything’s green. Can you imagine that? Do you know they can grow oranges and tangerines out here? They pick them right off the trees in their own backyards.”

Honey’s youngest, a boy, said, “We have trees in our backyard.”

“Not orange trees, Pessy,” the oldest girl said, derisively.

“Will you have some patience, Minda?” Honey scolded her. She smiled at Pessy. “I’ll show you the trees.” She spoke up to Rina. “You still have orange trees here, don’t you?”

“We have a whole citrus grove on our property,” Rina said. “It’s a ranch with horses and hay and a barn.”

Honey grinned. “Oh, Pessy, trees, and horses and a barn! Like we see in the countryside. Isn’t that exciting!”

The boy looked curious. “Horses like cowboys ride?”