This chapter is set shortly after the previous one, during the kids' night on the ocean liner. (To refresh, they left Cairnholm the night after the loop closed and arrived in Blackpool the next morning.) My opening quote for this chapter is said by Enoch to Olive after she nearly dies in Blackpool, which I realize might be misleading because this chapter isn't about Enoch and Olive at all, but I thought the quote was appropriate for Emma's feelings. Some of this chapter is Emma solo, but Jake shows up near the end. :)

"All these years, I never appreciated you."

The children all slept poorly that night on the ship. Enoch found some bedding on a lower level and hauled it up to the deck cabin, and Emma used her peculiarity to dry it off. They were all too nervous to sleep alone, so they spread the blankets and pillows out on the floor of the cabin in two big pallets, one for the girls and one for the boys. It was comfortable enough, but after spending seventy-three years in the same beds every night, it was hard to fall asleep anywhere else.

The third time that Emma woke up, she couldn't stop thinking about all the things that might go wrong in Blackpool. Her wide eyes traced the shadows on the ceiling, her heart full of fear for Miss Peregrine – and for herself, too – and she could tell that she wasn't going to fall back asleep soon. Perhaps a walk around the deck would clear her head and make her tired again. She carefully untangled herself from Olive and Claire and strapped on her shoes.

Outside the cabin, the deck was dark and quiet. Emma didn't know the time – two or three in the morning, maybe? The slow tred of her lead shoes was the only sound as she walked along the edge of the deck, looking out over the dark rolling waters. Her heart felt even heavier than her shoes as Hugh's angry words echoed inside her head.

"I don't have to do what you say! You're not Miss P!"

Emma sighed. Yes, she was very painfully aware that she wasn't Miss P. Miss Peregrine had always made it look so easy to break up their fights, to keep all of them happy. Was it easy for her because she was an ymbryne? Or was it hard for her too, and Emma had just been too busy feeling sorry for herself to ever notice how hard Miss Peregrine worked and how much she did for all of them?

Tears pricked at Emma's eyes. She had always felt so sorry for herself, living day after tedious day trapped in that time-loop. Now she racked her brain, trying to remember... had she ever even thanked Miss Peregrine for rescuing her from the circus? Had she ever thanked her for anything?

Ever since Barron had taken Miss Peregrine away, Emma had been trying to act brave for the younger children, to reassure them that Miss Peregrine would be all right, but alone on the deck now, her worst fears overran her mind. Miss Peregrine might already be dead. Emma's heart seemed to stop as she realized how possible it was. Barron might've already arrived in Blackpool, done his experiment on her, and killed her. Or perhaps he hadn't done the experiment yet, but he was torturing Miss Peregrine first, just for the fun of it. A mad scientist, Abe had described Barron once, but just how mad was the man? How evil? Emma's shudders had nothing to do with the chilly sea breezes.

She looked around, trying to find something to distract her from her thoughts. Glancing up, she saw a bird flying in the night sky, almost right over their ship, and for a second, her heart leapt up... but no, it was only an ordinary bird, a seagull. Wherever Miss Peregrine was now, she wasn't watching over them anymore.

Emma could float, of course, and she was good at recognizing people by the tops of their heads, but she never floated higher than the roof of their house. Watching the seagull now, she wondered what she might look like from a bird's-eye view... and then she remembered a conversation that she'd overheard once between Miss Peregrine and Hugh. Miss Peregrine took trips outside their loop as a falcon sometimes, because she could travel so much faster as a falcon than she could as a human, and after she returned from one, Hugh asked her, "Miss P, how do we look when you're a bird?"

"You don't look any different, Hugh. Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean when you're flying up very high," Hugh clarified. "We must look awfully small. How low do you have to get before you know who we are?"

Miss Peregrine had smiled and put one hand on his head. "It makes no difference how high I go, Hugh. I always know who my children are. I know every hair on your heads."

Remembering it now, a thought occurred to Emma. Miss Peregrine wasn't watching over them anymore... but perhaps someone else still was.

Emma hadn't gone to church in a very long time – she couldn't go, since September 3, 1943, was a Friday, not a Sunday – but there had been a copy of the Bible in the library at their old house, and sometimes, out of sheer boredom on the long, repetitive loop-days, she read it. She remembered now, very vaguely, something about the Holy Spirit turning into a dove.

If the Holy Spirit turned into a dove... did that mean God was an ymbryne?

The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. God was supposed to be watching over everyone and everything, and who could do that better than an ymbryne? And who better to help them save Miss Peregrine than another ymbryne?

Emma thought she should kneel down to pray, but she couldn't sit or kneel without something to hold her down, or she would float back up to standing. So she just closed her eyes and clasped her hands. She couldn't remember ever praying before, but the words came to her very naturally.

"Dear God," she whispered, "Miss Peregrine's been very good to all of us. If you'll please let her live and be all right, I promise I won't take her for granted ever again. Amen."

When she opened her eyes again, the night was still as dark as before, she and her house-mates were still on their own, and Miss Peregrine was still in danger. Nothing had changed, and yet for some reason, Emma felt better. As she walked back across the deck to the cabin, the door swung open, and her eyes made out Jake, his dark hair tousled from sleep, looking like a soldier with Miss Peregrine's crossbow across his chest. He scanned the deck and hurried over as soon as he saw her.

"Emma, what are you doing?" he asked. He sounded a bit panicked, and even in the darkness, Emma could see the fear in his wide eyes. "I woke up, and when you weren't there, I didn't know... I thought..."

"I'm all right, Jake," she said softly. Without meaning to, she pressed one hand against his chest, right over his heart, and it seemed to reassure him. She could feel his heartbeat relax beneath her palm. The two of them stood like that for a long moment, and it was reassuring for Emma, too – Jake's sweater warm against her fingers despite the chilly sea air, his steady breath reminding her that she wasn't alone despite their uncertain future.

Then Emma remembered Horace's dream about her and Jake, how the the two of them had moved closer and closer together, until their lips almost met... and suddenly, the privacy of this moment – the late hour, the empty deck – felt too intimidating.

"I just couldn't sleep," she said, slowly lowering her hand, "so I went for a little walk."

Jake nodded, his eyes full of concern now. "I know you're worried about Miss Peregrine."

Emma took a deep breath. "I am, but I think she's going to be all right. I really do. God is an ymbryne too, you know."

Jake blinked, puzzled. "What?"

Emma felt her cheeks grow hot. She hadn't mean to say that out loud, even though she felt certain that it was true. "Never mind," she answered, shaking her head. "Come on, we should get back inside." Jake slipped her hand into hers as they walked back to the cabin, her pale blue dress glowing like a beacon in the darkness. They didn't let go of each other's hands until they went back to their sleeping areas on opposite sides of the cabin.