Before she can answer, we're back in the fancy waiting room. Elizabeth squeals and tells Mama Corday that the baby's "doing somersaults." Mama Corday helps Elizabeth toward a seat as Papa sticks his head in and asks what's going on. Elizabeth tells him, "Your grandchild is getting restless," and Papa murmurs that the baby's not the only one. Behind him is the minister, who asks whether they've heard anything from Mark. Mama Corday, with perfect calm, says that she's sure he'll be there momentarily, and that they'll inform the minister when they've heard anything. Dissed and dismissed, he leaves. Elizabeth muses that she hopes Mark didn't get cold feet. Dude, if he's still around after the bitch-on-wheels routine of the past four months, there's nothing you could do to get rid of him. Mama Corday basically tells her the idea that he could is preposterous. Papa needles that Mark surely would have called if there was a problem. Elizabeth says that he's not answering his cell phone. Mama says that he probably left it at work with his wallet, adding that men get just as nervous as women do on their wedding day. She asks Papa to back her up, and he shrugs, "Actually, I was never more --" Mama shoots him a look, and he corrects himself, "...more anxious. Practically forgot it was my wedding day. Although in retrospect, that could have been wishful thinking." Mama snaps, "In hindsight, it would have saved me several years of grief!" He complains, "She never cooks, she never cleans, she has a filthy mouth -- she's the queen of the harpies!" Mama Corday counters that Papa "hasn't been able to cut it, man-wise, for quite some time." Elizabeth, crying again, tells them both to cram it. Papa defensively says, "We were teasing!" Elizabeth pouts, "Well, don't! It's not funny!" Mama calmly says, "He'll be here, Elizabeth. Don't fret!" Elizabeth sobs, "But I do fret! Every time he's late, I fret! Every time he slurs a word or gets tired or bumps his head, I fret! I'm about to get married, and I'm afraid -- not of being with him, but of being without him! I'm afraid he won't be around to raise this child!" Okay, again, I have to say, they have never established to my satisfaction that this is some big love affair. Mark and Elizabeth always seemed to me to have drifted together because they'd already dated every other single person in the hospital, and to have stayed together out of inertia. Even as she cries, I feel like Elizabeth could get along just fine without Mark -- which is not to say that dependence is the same as love, but that she barely even seems to like him most of the time. So if this speech was meant to fill in all the gaps where the writers could have been dramatizing the intimacy of their relationship -- beyond the ever-present cutesy snowball fights, I mean -- it failed. Papa, missing the point, says he thought Mark's last MRI showed no recurrence, and adds that the new therapies offer a long survival. "We don't know that for sure, do we?!" Elizabeth screeches petulantly. Yes. Your father is telling you he knows everything about cancer. Not. Simmer. Mama Corday, clutching Elizabeth's hands, soothingly tells her not to start crying now, or they'll never get through the ceremony. Elizabeth doesn't answer, so Mama appeals to Papa to say something. Papa kneels beside Mama and reassuringly declares, "You're going to have a wonderful life together." Elizabeth pouts some more. He adds that they love her very much and will always be there for her. Elizabeth, looking haggard, nods.