Lead Me From Solitude: The Solitude Series, #1

By Lainy Bradshaw

Sally was your normal, everyday North Devon policewoman. Settled and content in her self-made life after her ordeal. Jacob lived a sheltered, devout life, one that had him at a significant disadvantage. Brought together by tragedy and abuse, the ultimate reward for their battery was the one thing they had both been denied: true love. With determination, patience, and respect, Sally leads Jacob from solitude and brings him into the light of the world he was denied. But when all is well, life has been transformed, and the healing has begun, will Sally's secret undo it all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lainy Bradshaw
• Release date: Oct 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781516398317

Book preview

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

––––––––

Prologue

––––––––

It was a quiet Sunday and PC Sally Baker was in the rest area swapping gossip with her colleagues, completely unaware of how her life would change forever when the call went out. An RTC on the B road leading away from town. There were reports of multiple casualties and the fire and ambulance services were already on their way.  She was soon in the car with Sergeant Reynolds when they came across the scene. The ancient Morris Minor van, complete with trailer, had pretty much disintegrated on impact. The driver was an older man was obviously dead. Sally thought he looked familiar, despite being broken and blood-spattered, but couldn’t place him. There were no airbags in the old car. The woman seemed younger than the man, though it was hard to tell, and looked work-weary and very thin. She was still alive and trying to speak. Sally bent down to her in the hope of getting any information, but the woman was drifting in and out of consciousness and kept muttering:

Jacob, please, my poor baby, my boy. Please... I’m sorry, I'm so sorry, and she lost consciousness.

Sally looked around. There was no sign of a baby or child. So, who was Jacob? Searching the man's body, she found an old wallet. Inside was a card which read 'Next of kin Jacob Isaac Riley, Son, Solitude Farm, Little Dutton.' That’s where I know them from’ she realized that she bought cheese from their stall at the monthly farmers' market in Great Dutton. Well, it was a start. She hadn't realised that they had any children though, she had never seen a child at the market, even during school holidays. The pair were soon on their way to the local hospital. The man had been pronounced dead at the scene. The woman succumbed to her injuries later in hospital. It was time for Sally to find this 'Jacob', break the news and see if he had relatives to take him in. If not, foster care would be required, assuming he was a minor. She climbed into the police car with Sgt. Reynolds and she drove off having no idea of how suddenly her life was about change.

Chapter 1

––––––––

Jacob awoke and, for the first time in his twenty-two years, he was alone in the world. Completely and utterly alone. Not that he had any friends. His only company were his parents. His tyrannical, controlling father would never let him out of his sight except to sleep when he was locked in his cell-like bedroom, or during one of his parents' visits to the local town where they either sold produce from the small-holding or bought products that they couldn't produce themselves. But they were constant and now they were gone.

Jacob was schooled at home by his mousey, timid mother when he was a child. The only books allowed were a few old cookbooks of his mother's, inherited from a Grandmother he had never known and containing foods he would never taste, and the Bible, and then mainly the old testament. Jacob's father rarely read from the new testament, it was all 'wrath and retribution' stuff. He had never seen or heard of television, let alone watched one. The only concessions to the modern world being a battered old Morris Minor with its old refrigerated trailer and electric lights: the former to enable his father to drive into town because the locals didn't take kindly to the horse and cart he preferred, and he had to keep the produce they sold chilled, and the latter to aid his mother's ailing sight which made it difficult to stitch the clothes she made for them. The only clothing items permitted to be bought were footwear, everything else was made to his father's strict instructions.

Jacob blinked in the early morning light and recalled the previous day. His parents had made one of their regular visits to the farmer's market in the nearby town of Great Dutton. He was alone at the small holding, and he was not locked in the cellar for once. His father usually locked him away 'to keep him safe from wickedness' but they were running low on fuel, and so he was chopping wood for the ancient generator that provided the electricity, one item on the long list of chores which had been left for him when he heard a woman's voice. He stood perfectly still for a few seconds as he processed the sound; the only woman's voice he ever remembered hearing was his mother's, and hers was quiet and as timid as the rest of her. This voice was young and vibrant. He called out, his own voice shaking slightly. He was not used to speaking and he had never spoken to anyone except his parents and then very rarely and only if one of them (most usually his Father) addressed him first. Hearing

the crunching of gravel, he wiped the sweat from his face and walked slowly towards the sound, where he saw, for the first time that he could recall, a human being that wasn't either of his parents.

Sally heard a repetitive banging noise and followed the sound to the rear of the house and saw a figure chopping wood.

Sarge, I think I've found him.

Sally audibly gasped at her first glimpse of Jacob. Most definitely NOT a juvenile then, she thought. He was dripping with sweat, and even in the weird, shapeless, old-fashioned garb he wore, she could make out the well-toned body of someone to whom hard, physical labour was the norm, not the fake muscle of the gym worshippers she worked with. He was FIT. It was a shame she couldn't make out his features under the strange floppy straw hat he wore. What century is this man from? The people in the crash, his parents, wore old clothes. But compared to Jacob Riley's attire, they looked ordinary.

Jacob saw the source of the voice. The girl was standing upright, her head held high, her shoulders back. She looked unashamed of her body being so exposed. The only other woman he had ever seen – his mother, always looked down, her shoulder rounded and never made eye contact, his mother always wore long skirts and big baggy blouses, that covered her up to her neck. This woman was

wearing black trousers and a black t-shirt exposing the tanned skin of her arms and neck, her hair was pulled back from her face, exposing the curve of her neck; something Jacob had never encountered before. He felt an unfamiliar tug in his stomach, moving down to other areas of his body, at the sight before him. The last time he felt this sensation, his father had unlocked his bedroom door at sunrise. Jacob was still asleep, unaware of the betrayal of his body. His father had seen the obvious signs of arousal under the thin blanket and had beaten Jacob solidly until he passed out. This painful memory caused him to close his eyes and turn quickly from her, she was almost naked! He could see flesh and he had to hide his wickedness, even though he wanted to continue to stare at the blonde, blue-eyed angel in front of him.

Jacob Riley? A gruff male voice pulled him back to the present. Turning back, he stared into the rugged but friendly face of an older man, dressed in similar clothes to the girl.

Ye-e-es, I am Jacob, still facing away, head down. I am sorry, but my parents are out, would you like to call back later? I should warn you though, they don't take kindly to visitors. Jacob started to worry; people rarely called at the house, and only by prior arrangement. Jacob never saw these occasional callers, he was locked in the cellar on the arranged days. People NEVER called unannounced. He spoke in a small, shaky voice as if scared of the sound coming from his mouth.

It's about your parents. Please, can we go into the house, out of the sun? the man asked. Jacob hesitated for a second before showing them into the kitchen, his eyes still averted, his shoulders hunched over and rounded, as if trying to make himself invisible, and motioned to the chairs around the bare table.

Please, have a seat. His voice shook. Not a speech defect, more like someone not used to

speaking often. Sally's curiosity was growing. Once the strange pair had sat in the proffered

chairs, Jacob took the seat opposite, removed his hat and spoke.

I am sorry, but who are you and what is happening? His voice clearer now, but still a little shaky, making Sally even more interested in this strange, beautiful man. She had a glimpse of

piercing green eyes, looking through long lashes, and dark circles aged him beyond the early twenties she guessed him to be. He had dark, badly cut hair, although maybe 'hacked at' would be a better description, and his face was grubby with dust and sweat. Then her attention moved to the kitchen. It, like Jacob, looked like it belonged in a different century. There was an old range, cold now, a big but-

ler's sink and scrubbed wooden surfaces. There were no curtains at the windows, no decoration, not even a clock, just bare walls and no modern appliances, not even a fridge.

Shall I make some tea or coffee? she asked brightly. Jacob looked at her, confusion clouding his features.

What are tea and coffee? he asked. Sally stared at him. How could he not know or have heard of tea OR coffee? The police station ran on the stuff!

They are hot drinks, beverages, she explained.

Oh, please forgive me, all we drink here is water or milk and occasionally apple juice, if the trees produce enough fruit, he replied, his head bowed and his eyes downcast again. He waited until she sat down across the table. Sally sat in the dark kitchen, and, after noting the bareness of the room, turned her attention fully back to Jacob. She took in the baggy, for want of a better word, clothes. Sally had been a police officer long enough to have instincts,  and there was something about Jacobs whole demeanour that screamed 'victim' although even an idiot could see this boy had been treated very badly. His head was bowed, he tried to avoid all eye contact and his hands were clasped together as if in prayer. A cult maybe? But there would be more people around if that were the case, surely?

Sergeant Reynolds cleared his throat and pulled a black leather wallet from the pocket of his black trousers and flipped it open revealing a silver badge.

We're police officers, Mr Riley. I'm Sergeant Reynolds, this is my colleague PC Baker. I have some bad news. I'm afraid there's been an accident. Your parents' car was involved in a crash with a lorry on the main road into town.

Jacob, at first confused, was about to ask what 'police officers' were, he had never heard of them, when he heard the rest of the sentence, causing him to inhale sharply.

Continue, please.

Sergeant Reynolds took a breath; his nerves betraying his cool exterior.

"Your father, Isaac, was pronounced dead at the scene. Your mother died later in resus. I'm

sorry."

Jacob's brow furrowed.

Resus? I don't... understand, what is resus?

Resuscitation, at the accident and emergency department at the hospital, Sally explained, wondering how anyone could not know that.  Jacob struggled to understand. He didn't understand a lot of the words the strange couple used, but he understood enough to know what had happened. His parents, dead? What will he do? Who would guide him now? All his life had been lived under a strict set of rules and instructions, laid down and enforced by his father. Who will do this now?

Mr Riley? The girl's voice rang in his ears, tugging him from his reverie. He looked into her warm, blue eyes. We need you to come down to the mortuary and formally identify the bodies.

Jacob thought for a second or two before replying.

But I do not know how to drive, and we do not have another car.

That's no problem, we can take you in the patrol car, if you feel up to it?

Jacob nodded, but inside, his stomach was churning at the thought. He was terrified. His father had told him the world outside was awash with evil and sin and as his soul was already impure and wicked, contact with the world would condemn his soul to Satan. He stood and followed the strange pair out, trying to avoid how the girl's body moved and before he knew it, he was sitting in the back of a car.

The girl spoke quietly to the gruff man, who nodded something in agreement before she slid into the seat beside him, while the man sat behind the wheel in the front. It was a bright day and Jacob wasn't used to being outside without a hat. Sally saw him squint. He then heard her musical voice.

Sarge, there’s a spare pair of aviators in the glove-box, chuck them back here.

She grabbed the box and suddenly she was speaking to him.

Here, wear these, they'll protect your eyes from the sun, and you need to belt up.

Jacob looked at her in total bewilderment, as if she were speaking a different language.

Here, allow me.

Before he could react, she had taken the glasses out of their box, putting them on his nose, then she leant over and grabbed the piece of metal by his ear and placed it in something in the seat between them, and then did the same on her side.

OK Sarge, we're in! And the car sped off.

Jacob sat stock still feeling completely lost. His world, the only world he knew, was evaporating like morning dew. Sally sat and glanced at him. He sat with his head bowed, whispering something under his breath. She noted how pale he was. It was as if he had never exposed his skin to the sun, and took in the baggy clothes. The strange grey tunic tied high on his neck, the arms tied around his wrists with long cuffs, covering his long fingers. She noticed his fingernails were ripped, ragged and dirty from daily toil. It was as if he was hiding or being hidden from the world. She knew something of this from her past . Now she was closer, she noticed also, that although he had a work-hardened body, he also had a gaunt look. Almost underfed, as though he had always eaten but never quite enough to be full. But most of all, he looked so lost and afraid. Her heart went out to him and she fought an overwhelming desire to hold him close and make him feel safe.

Jacob had never been off of the farm, let alone in a car. He had cleaned his father's car, and it looked nothing like this. This was big and shiny and there were strange coloured things on the top, and bright squares of colour and a word on the side. He felt a strange sensation as the car drove along, a gentle feeling of being pushed into the seat, this was new too. He only ever sat on a plain wood chair or

the thin mattress on his bed. He liked the sensation, and he felt wicked. Before he knew it, he was in the hospital.  Thankfully there were very few people about but the ones that were gave him odd looks. He noticed everything. The stark white of the walls, the long corridor, the long strips of lights on the ceiling, the strange smell of disinfectant. He then saw another girl wearing what looked like much tighter versions of his own clothes, except hers were a bright green colour and her arms were bare. He could see her skin and felt wicked. She had long dark hair, tied back like the angel's, but she was

not as pretty. He was led into a room that had red chairs and a big window with red cloth across it. Suddenly he felt a jolt of something and he saw the blonde angel had put her hand on his shoulder. She had touched him? Didn’t she know that was wicked?

Jacob, her voice was soft. It's time, are you ready?

He nodded, the red cloth moved and there he was, gazing at the cold bodies of his parents,

the only anchors in his world, mercifully cleaned and covered to the neck.

Yes, they are my parents he said softly, feeling no grief, but an overwhelming feeling of being adrift in a huge, frightening ocean.

Sally drove him back to the farm, trying to engage him in conversation. He answered her questions, he told her he lived there with his parents. He had never been off the farm. How they rarely had visitors and if they did, he was locked in the cellar, so they wouldn't be repulsed by his ugliness. But mostly he sat with his head bowed and eyes shut, reciting what sounded like a passage from the bible, very quietly until she pulled up at the house and he stepped out.

Will you be alright? She asked, worrying about this little lost boy. He looked down, still trying not to look at her and replied,

I do not know what to do.

His voice quiet and unsure, then he seemed to find some form of inner resolve and continued.

Thank you for driving me home.

He handed her the glasses, but she waved him off.

No, you keep them, I have another pair.

He mumbled his thanks, then turned and strode straight to the house and entered without a backward glance.

Once indoors, he sat and toyed with the 'aviators'. Were they a gift? He wasn’t allowed gifts

but she didn’t know that. Should he punish himself? He thought to himself what his moth-

er would do. She would wait for his father to give her instructions, she had never made a

decision alone. He had even told her what food to cook, although all Jacob was ever fed was a thin broth or bread and cheese. His father, however, always had a meal of meat and vegetables.

He went to his bedroom and washed, cold water of course. His father only allowed hot water to wash the dishes and do the laundry. He changed into clean clothes and made a meagre supper of bread and cheese with a glass of milk, thanking God for his bounty, as he had been told to do, before going to bed. For the first time in his young life he did not hear the lock turn and this scared him. What if some

thing came and took him? So he took the key out and locked the door from the inside. Jacob then prayed for God to save his unworthy, wicked soul and climbed into his bed, barely big enough for a small boy let alone a 6' 2" man. Closing his eyes, Jacob fell into a sleep haunted, not by the sight of his dead, cold parents, but of bright blue eyes and a musical voice.

Sally dropped the strange, lost, but very good looking, young man off and drove the patrol car back to the station, where she decided to do some investigating of her own. She found herself intrigued by the fact that the only record of his existence was the next of kin card in Isaac Riley's battered old wallet. After an hour, she had found no record of Jacob Riley, but had found out that his mother Joanna was twenty years younger than his father.

Isaac had been a lay-preacher and a theological lecturer at the college