In 1980, she married again, this time to John Clemans, a photographer she met at Viva Magazine, in Nairobi, and with whom she had two children, Christopher and Katherine.

In 1978, Wescott and Shreve split up and returned to the USA.

Wescott and Shreve married in 1975, and went to Kenya together, where Wescott got a job with the Harvard Institute for International Development while finishing his PhD. Some of Shreve's voyages with Wescott in Alcyone became fictionalized in her later writing. Shreve and Wescott were living in Hingham, Massachusetts, and taking part in a Wescott family project to build Alcyone, a 41-foot sailboat, which was launched in January 1973. She met her second husband, Clay Wescott, at Reading Memorial High School, where they were teachers. She married Jack Christensen, her first husband, while he finished his medical degree at Harvard Medical School. JSTOR ( February 2023) ( Learn how and when to remove this template message).Unsourced material may be challenged and removed. Please help improve this article by adding citations to reliable sources in this section. Written from the point of view of thirty-year-old Nicky as she recalls the vivid images of that fateful December, hers is a tale of love and courage, of tragedy and redemption, and of the ways in which the human heart always seeks to heal itself.This section needs additional citations for verification. The events of a December afternoon on which a father and his daughter find an abandoned infant in the snow will forever alter eleven-year-old Nicky Dillon's understanding of the world which she is about to enter and the adults who inhabit it: a father who has taken great pains to remove himself from society in order to put behind him an unthinkable tragedy a young woman who must live with the consequences of the terrible choices she has made and a detective whose cleverness is superseded only by his sense of justice. The baby was wrapped in a bloody towel, and its lips were blue.' A tiny face gazed up at me, the eyes wide despite their many folds. I watched my father run forward in his snowshoes the way one sometimes does in dreams, unable to make the legs move fast enough.

Light on Snow by Anita Shreve