Knot-tying couples have Valentine's Day for the ages

They met at an end-of-the-year picnic for members of the Sickles High School ROTC. He was a senior. She was a junior, the sister of one of his classmates. He loved her brown eyes, her dark lashes like luxurious, languid fans. She liked his spirit, his quick wit and his smile that tilts to one side.

But if they struck a spark that day, the fire was kindled and grew at a distance. They dated for a while before her parents — Europeans and old-school — ordered her to break it off. "They thought it was moving too fast," she says.

Crestfallen, he moved to Ohio, to family, and near his first crush — Ohio State University — but the forbidden lovers corresponded surreptitiously on Facebook. Last year, set on his prize, he returned, got a place near her in Citrus Park, took jobs with a local moving company and as a vendor at Busch Gardens, and gave her a key. She moved in. Four months later, she was pregnant.

On a windswept Tuesday afternoon under a gentle, steady sun, he met her again, on the north courtyard of the historic Pasco County Courthouse. She wore a veil over an ivory princess gown over a seven-month baby bump, finished with white opera gloves and balancing on white satin heels. Her mahogany hair was caught up in a twist pinned in place by a cascade of rhinestone-encrusted silk orchids.

He wore a scarlet silk shirt, black tuxedo pants and a rakish silver tie. "Love the Buckeyes," he winked in a rare moment of calm. "I've been pacing all day," he said. "Sure I'm nervous. I mean, I'm overjoyed; I've been wanting this for a long time. But my heart, it's just thumping."

And so, as the tower clock ticked toward half-past 2 p.m. on Valentine's Day, Ellie Schauer and Brent Soenksen applied an exclamation point to their determined, if in some precincts unpopular, courtship, becoming — along with 17 other couples — wife and husband, and the groom resumed normal breathing.

Pasco County Clerk of Court Paula O'Neil presided over the fourth annual mass wedding, tying more knots in five minutes than an Eagle Scout could in an hour. Guided with efficient dignity through the ceremony, the partners vowed to love, honor and cherish; endure through good times and rotten; and to keep mindful of the lessons of eternity and unity formed in the rings they exchanged.

In a smart pewter suit and immaculate makeup, the mother of the bride gave her reluctant blessing. "I teach my children: First you go to college, then you get married, then you have the sex," Pure Schauer said in English spiced with her native Spanish, "but the baby changes everything." Meanwhile, she extracted a vow from daughter Leslie, 15, to abide by tradition.

"That'll be easy," Leslie said. "I'm the traditional one."

If so, Leslie Schauer was among the few in the crowd of marrying couples and about 100 witnesses, most of whom demonstrated a flair for the unconventional. Brides came in fashions ranging from pastel-colored suits to racy cocktail gowns to demure sundresses. Guys wore suits — ties optional — over boots, and jeans topped by a riot of shirts.

And they came to this place on this day as much to be part of something special as for the fact that the price was right. The professional harpist, New Port Richey's 27-year-old Jessica Cardwell, donated her talent. "It was my mom's idea," she said. Harold Sample, who retired from City Hall to become the city's go-to events sound engineer, worked free.

Keifer's provided freshwater pearl necklaces for the brides; Publix gave take-home cakes; and, from across the street, Betty's Cakes delivered a 2-foot-tall cake for the mass reception.

As for O'Neil, "You've already paid for me!"

The arrangement was ideal for Zephyrhills' Donna Marie and Donald Bryan, who've been together since Donald rolled through Birmingham, Ala., in his big rig four years ago, stealing her away from the slow-pitch church league softball fields where she played shortstop and showed off an infielder's piercing whistle. Nowadays, she drives days and he drives nights for Dade City-based Bryant and Co.

They'd been looking for a window in their schedules for a wedding, and when business in the county seat dovetailed with O'Neil's annual nuptials jubilee, they leapt. "At last," cheered Delma Bryan, the couple's next-of-kin, "I'll have a sister I can share secrets with!"

Rachel and Stewart Wheate, married on the courtyard two years ago, would see the sun set in Clearwater over frozen rum runners. But they started the day driving over from New Port Richey to lend spiritual support. "We made a promise to ourselves always to come back," Stewart said. "It's a special day."

That's exactly how Brent Soenksen saw it. He's leaving in two weeks for Michigan to train as a Navy rescue diver and was eager to button up unfinished business. "If we'd had thousands of dollars, we might have done something different," Soenksen said, "but then this opportunity came up."

Glancing up to take in the possibilities of an endless Valentine's Day sky, then back to his bride's gaze, Soenksen was a happy man. "It's definitely been worth waiting."