Whistling, Marshall hammered in the peg, attaching the leg to the table. He decided he rather enjoyed the scent offreshly sawn wood, working with his hands, constructing useful, practical things.
Another benefit to the woodshop assignment was that he got to work on personal projects. Refuge strove to discourage dependency and encourage initiative and self-reliance. If one didn’t personally benefit from one’s efforts, what would be the motivation to work?
He’d experienced the reverse. Dark Ops had provided for all his needs—food, shelter, medical care, clothes. But he’d paid for them with his freedom. Dark Ops had owned him.
Amity had told him she was weaving a blanket for them.
He wished to contribute, too. They needed everything, but especially furniture— a dresser, shelves,seating. They only had the two uncomfortable wooden dinner chairs and the bed to sit on. A couch would be nice. Maybe he could build a sofa frame?
Amity could weave the fabric for the cushions. What would they stuff them with? What was in their bed pillows? He jotted a mental note to take a look.
He got all four legs attached to the table and lifted it upright. Level. Didn’t wobble at all. He patted himself on the back. His carpentry skills were getting better and faster.
One down, fifty more to go.Yesterday’s delivery had been the tip of the iceberg as far as orders went.Job security.He chuckled.
“Somebody’s in a good mood,” Bragg said. “You’ve been smiling and whistling all morning.”
“You’d prefer I scowl and swear?”
“Not complaining, just observing.” Pause. “I guess you two patched things up.”
Made love. “We weren’t fighting.”
“You didn’t say two words through dinner last night.”
“Didn’t need to. You and Faith did enough talking for all of us. What would you stuff a sofa cushion with?”
“Synthetic foam?”
“How about a sofa on Refuge?” he asked drily. Few synthetics could be found on this planet.
“Egger feathers? Horniger fur?”
“That might work.” He nodded.
“You have a sofa in your cabin? We don’t have one.”
“I’m thinking of building one. For Amity.”
Bragg’s face split into one of his shit-eating grins. He’d been a thorn in Marshall’s side from the moment he’d stepped out of the amniotic cloning goo. But the man’s love for Faith had given his life purpose and direction, which had inspired Marshall. Because Bragg had sought more from life,hehad begun to desire more. If not for Bragg, he might never have broken free of Dark Ops.
“You want to help me build a sofa?” he asked, deciding not to ask Amity for assistance. Instead, he’d surprise her with a finished product. He’d bet her boss would help him with the pillows if he let her know what it was for. After the way she’d arranged for them to have a day together, she’d probably be glad to assist.
“Sure! We’ll practice on yours—then we’ll do the good one for me and Faith.” Bragg grinned.
Fair enough. His lips twitched. “I’d better get back to work, then. I need to finish my quota, so I can get started on the sofa.” Whistling, Marshall started on another table.
Chapter Ten
“I’ll get our desserts. Why don’t you save us a seat?” Amity suggested as they scooted along the buffet line.
“Bragg will reserve a table,” he said.
Arching her eyebrows, Amity looked at Faith.
“I think John wanted to talk to you privately,” Faith said.
“About what? We were together all day.”
